The Ship's Log: RLS Legacy
by fenfae
Summary: A look into the Legacy's logbook, written by Captain Amelia herself. Focuses on the events of the voyage (seen and unseen) from Captain Amelia's point of view. Slow-burn Amelia/Doppler. Rated T for safety.
1. A Very Curious Commission

**AN: Hope this goes well! **

Date: 002.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, Crescentia Spaceport, C Berth 303

For all the ridiculous mishaps and shambolic attempts of organising a leading military force, the Admiralty of the Royal Navy never fails to surprise me with their sheer stupidity. To sum this mess up simply, they have decided to sponsor a lunatic scientist and his rebellious teenage ward to go gallivanting all over the galaxy searching for a fabled lost planet and its trove, and of all the Captains in their Reserve Fleet, they appoint me to lead it.

* * *

I would like to clarify that my commission and contract with the Navy, while participating in occasional drills and exercises, includes:

_'…commissioned escorting voyages, shipping of tender and goods, and voyages of scientific significance._'

Nowhere on that list does it include 'carting a senile idiot around to find the loot of a mythical pirate' or 'babysitting a wayward youth with a criminal record' – yet this is what this infernal contract completely contains.

* * *

For context, I was first informed of this commission through telephone after returning from a quick shipping voyage of dummy ammunition from Crescentia to Port Ivy, home to the Interstellar Academy. I was just finishing my report in the public dining area of my lodgings (the damned bureaucrats want a detailed report on every insignificant out-going) when a boy ran in to inform me that I had a telephone-call. I slipped him a penny for his service, packed up my report and headed out into the hall. My lodging was only a small inn that did not have a private room for telecommunications, so I was forced to accept the call in the narrow front corridor with the contraption held to my ear.

It was Arrow, my second in command. The man has spaced with me for the better half of…well, never mind how long, but I have gotten so used to him being by my side that I even included in my contract that he should join me in every voyage I am commissioned for. We're a package, him and I. You won't get one without the other.

Fortunately, Arrow had some news from the base at Crescentia. He said we were to be given another commission immediately, an urgent one.

"Urgent?" I said, frowning. "What is it this time? Some big company contractor is too afraid to enter a current unaccompanied?"

Arrow chuckled down the line. "No Captain, they claimed that they have sponsored an expedition of exploration founded by a Doctor Doppler, from Montressor."

"We don't do explorations, Arrow."

"No Captain, but the Admiralty have insisted on this one." He explained. "This expedition is a…strange one indeed."

My frown deepened. "What do you mean by 'strange'?"

"I mean that it is a search for a pirate's loot, ma'am. _Flint's_ loot."

There was a pause. Arrow, by his explanation, was on one end of the line eagerly awaiting my response with a held breath. I was on the other end, gaping in shock. "Have they lost their _minds_?"

* * *

Arrow and I met later that day to discuss this voyage. After picking the file up from the base, we locked ourselves away in my lodgings and talked in whispered conversation. If it ever got out that there was a treasure hunt sponsored by the Royal Navy itself, there would be a string of pirate and merchant vessels alike shadowing our trail.

The financier of this voyage is an astrophysicist by the name of Doctor Delbert Doppler, a man who specialises in stars. His story was that a friend's teenage son had recently come into ownership of a map to Treasure Planet, the legendary dwelling of the pirate Flint's lost treasure trove. He claimed that it was 'technology like no other' and that by gaining ownership of this so-called 'map', the young boy Hawkins and his mother soon lost their home in a pirate raid. After extensive communication to his bank, the University of Montressor and the Interstellar Academy itself, he was soon referred to the Admiralty and given sponsorship. Their side of the funding would be to supply the vessel for this expedition and its commander.

That commander being me.

"Is it worrying that I may actually accept this commission?" I quietly asked Arrow, who looked at me astonished.

"You wish to travel to the other end of the galaxy on a quest based on a hunch, ma'am?"

"Don't get me wrong, Arrow. There are many things wrong with this voyage." I replied, sliding the file across the table towards him. I sat back and folded my hands on my lap. "Firstly, we have no say in the crew. Secondly, the idea of a pirate's trove just sitting out there waiting for us is very unlikely. This contraption could very much be a fake. There's no estimated length of the voyage; we could be out in space for months, years even. We may lack supplies, get completely lost or be killed. And this Doctor Doppler has few merits to his name, and his ward has a criminal record despite barely being fifteen years of age."

"Then what compels you to accept the commission, Captain?"

A smile grew on my face. "Adventure, my dear friend. This sounds far more exciting to me than another escorting business or shipping timber to a dry dock."

Leaving the table, I poured myself a glass of port from a sideboard and drank. "Besides, I would very much like to see this map myself and if it does not impress me, I will shove it down this Doctor Doppler's throat and hurl him overboard for wasting my time. However, if it is real, then we could be instrumental in one of the greatest discoveries of the century."

Arrow chuckled. "So, you believe in Flint's trove then, ma'am?"

"Who can say? I wasn't alive when everyone feared this Captain Flint." I raised an eyebrow at Arrow. Being Cragorian, he has been alive for over a hundred years. He caught my eye and cracked a rare smile.

"True, ma'am. There was a time when every spacer feared that name."

I watched him carefully over the rim of my glass. "You don't believe he ever existed?"

Arrow grimaced. "I am not sure, ma'am. It's possible that I might have saw his ship once."

This was news to me; in all the stories I have heard Arrow tell me, about his journeys across space under the command of various members of my family, he never once mentioned a run-in with the most infamous pirate of all time. Arrow took my silence as a request for him to elaborate this story and so, he closed the file shut and turned to the window, looking out to the stars.

"I was spacing with your great grandfather, during one of his first commands. Our ship received a call for help and soon, we found a tender on fire and being raided by pirates. This pirate ship soon fled, and we pursued it into an asteroid field. For a brief second, the pirates turned a corner behind a huge asteroid but by the time our ship rounded it too, they were gone. We continued to search the field, but they were nowhere to be found."

"Vanished without a trace?" I muttered. "It certainly fits the other witness accounts."

"Many claimed to see Flint's ship in those days. His ship appeared from nowhere, attacked without mercy and fled within minutes. Of course, your great grandfather thought it was all nonsense. He was not one for myths and tales."

"I cannot blame him. A ship cannot just disappear like magic." I said, putting down my port. "But this voyage interests me, Arrow, even if I believe the Admiralty are fools for sponsoring it on such vague hopes."

Arrow nodded grimly. "It is certainly…different, ma'am."

"And after all these years of such boring journeys – shipping tender, escorting diplomats, and such - isn't it time for us to have another proper adventure? To go somewhere far away with no clue on what to expect?" I said wistfully, drumming my fingers on the sideboard.

Arrow turned from the window and gave me a rare smile. "You sound just like your father, ma'am."

"Do you think I would be foolish to accept this?"

"I do not, ma'am. It would be satisfying to solve the mystery of what I saw that day with a logical explanation – and like you said, it has been a long time since we had a rather exciting voyage."

"Then it's settled." I declared. "We'll accept the commission and spend months looking for a lost treasure trove that may not even exist. What could possibly go wrong?"

Of course, it all went wrong before we even launched the ship.

* * *

In the future, I may request to add a close to my contract stating that I will have a say in which crew is hired. Usually, any contractor or financier would leave finding a crew to me as my knowledge of spacing is far greater than any landlubbers. I have a list of plenty of suitable crews in port as long as my arm but unfortunately, the Admiralty's generosity only stretches so far. This meant that only Arrow and I would be on their payroll. The crew was hired by this financier and I had no say.

Which explains why they are possibly the worst crew I have ever laid my eyes on.

* * *

I arrived at the _Legacy_ just before coffee with a spring in my step - only to find the crew had decided to make an early appearance. There are sixteen in all: a cook, helmsman, spotter, gunner and an engineer, the rest being a mixture of ropers and riggers. They are the most undisciplined lot I have ever met. They have no regard for hygiene, manners or basic decency. A few were scratching themselves in undignified areas, their conversation lewd and littered with slanderous words. One had a finger up a nostril. Another belched loudly.

They were all waiting at the bottom of the gangplank where Mr Arrow was in conversation with a large, cyborg Ursid. As I approached, Mr Arrow snapped himself to attention. At least the cyborg had enough brain cells to give some form of salute; the other members of this crew either stared at me stupidly or seemed to not care their commanding officer was in their presence.

"Gentlemen," I snapped, using the term 'gentlemen' loosely. "Pull yourselves together at _once_."

A few continued to stare dully, others surly stood up straight. I quickly set them straight with a cold glare and within seconds, they all were at attention to me. Glancing over them, I did not like the look of them. There was something calculating in some of their eyes. Others were just void and simple. What had Doctor Doppler sent me?

"Good morning, Captain-"

Mr Arrow's greeting was rudely interrupted by the cyborg he had previously been in discussion with. The man had taken off his hat and bowed in a great sweeping gesture. I looked at him incredulously, but he continued.

"Tis a gracious honour to be meeting you, Captain!" He spoke with a strange lint in his voice, an accent I had only heard in the furthest reaches of space. "Can I just say how humbled me and the lads are to be joining you on this wee excursion-"

Those who know me are aware of my lack of tolerance for such flimflam. "Yes, thank you, Mr…?"

"Silver, ma'am. Ol' Long John Silver-"

"Yes, thank you, Mr Silver but I presume you have your papers with you?" I cut him off once again and eyed him suspiciously. I do not have good experiences with those who use such toady language.

Silver handed over his papers, revealing him to be commissioned as the cook for our voyage. He even produced his passport and immunizations forms, although I waved them away as unnecessary, but what surprised me the most was when he handed over the papers for the rest of the crew as well. I took them cautiously, and flicked through. They all claimed that the churlish group before me was 'one of the finest crews in the galaxy' and had the pleasure of leading some of the 'galaxy's greatest ships' into space. A load of poppycock if I ever saw it. This team wouldn't be allowed within five nautical miles of a Royal Light Ship, yet alone crewing one.

"Listen up, all of you." I addressed the crew. Usually, I would prefer to address them from my post on the bridge but I had to settle for the port-side. I couldn't let them get aboard without knowing who was in charge first. Thankfully, they all had learned from their previous mistake and, although with some delay, stood straight to attention.

"My name is Captain Amelia and I will be the commander of this voyage. This here is Mr Arrow, my second in command. There are a few basic rules for you all to follow. There will be no brawling, swearing, or gambling aboard my ship. Curfew will be in force immediately at twenty-two hundred hours. Anyone caught breaking these rules will be confined to the brig for the remainder of the voyage. Is that clear?"

A few grumbles escaped some tightly pursed lips but after a flashing glare from myself and Arrow, they soon saluted and confirmed. Nodding, I turned and started my way up the gangplank with Arrow close behind. I couldn't help but let a sigh escape me. What in the galaxy were we about to get ourselves into?

* * *

By seven hundred hours, Arrow had joined me in my stateroom. He found me sitting crossed legged behind my desk with the crew's papers scattered around me, devising the watch cycle. I looked up at him as he locked to door behind him and motioned to the papers with my ears perked.

"Have you _seen_ these?"

"Unfortunately, I have." Arrow rumbled.

I started flicking through the sheets of paper surrounding me. "Have you seen these names? Dogbreath, Birdbrain Mary, Oxy and Moron – are they having a_ joke_? These can't be real papers, surely?"

"I wondered the same ma'am but…they are definitely an experienced lot. From what I've seen already, they are certainly capable of bringing this ship into space." Arrow sighed and stood beside me.

I shook my head. "What has this Doctor Doppler sent us, Arrow? This ludicrous parcel of drivelling galoots is one I would gladly return to sender."

Another sigh escaped me as I shuffled the papers back into order. "We still have time to change our minds, ma'am." Arrow offered hopefully. Again, I shook my head.

"No, we've committed ourselves to this. Maybe we can whip them into something that resembles a crew over time."

"If we wanted to train spacers we would have joined the Academy's staff, ma'am."

"Quite so," I filed the papers away in my store cupboard, locked away with my pistols and some of my personal belongings. "But still, I would like to give Doctor Doppler a piece of my mind when he boards. What time is he due to arrive?"

"Around noon, ma'am. He is coming straight from Montressor with the Hawkins boy."

"I wonder how many screws he has loose to hire such a ridiculous group of spacers." I muttered under my breath.

Thankfully, our coffee arrived promptly (I had made sure to inform Mr Silver that I expected a café lattoid on my desk every morning at seven hundred hours sharp). The rest of my morning was spent preparing the ship for launch, signing off the deliveries of supplies as Arrow supervised the crew's work in the tops. Once that was complete, I climbed the shrouds myself to inspect the ropes while Arrow began stocking the ship. It was when my inspection concluded that I finally came face to face with the infamous Doctor Doppler.

* * *

I was pleasantly surprised by the crew's work. Although they appeared hostile, obtuse and down-right uneducated, they clearly knew how to rig a ship. My inspection concluded with delightful results and as I swung my way back down the ropes to the deck, I was already planning my praise to Mr Arrow.

"Mr Arrow, I have checked this miserable ship from stem to stern and as usual-" I began, striding past my friend as he stood to attention. "It's spot on. Can you get nothing wrong?"

A smile broke across Mr Arrows face and he tipped his hat to me. "You flatter me, Captain."

I winked and as I turned to head back to my quarters, ran straight into our incompetent financier.

His appearance said it all. The man was wearing some sort of pressurised space suit, at least over a century old, that was clearly unsuitable for modern spacing. Not to mention that it was a poor fit, in desperate need for a buffing, and not even activated. Through the helmet's glass window, I could see a large nose, droopy ears and a pair brown eyes hiding behind a small pair of spectacles. A candid, surprisingly. This amused me greatly.

"Doctor Doppler, I presume?"

My question prompted the Doctor to start stuttering and blubbering. I mistook his awkwardness for confusion and assumed that due to his suit, he could not hear me. "Hello? Can you hear me?" I asked, knocking on the metal helmet.

"Yes, I can. Stop that banging!" The Doctor scolded and attempted to remove his helmet. Of course, it was stuck on. Why would he bring one along if he did not know how to use it?

"If I may, Doctor, this works so much better when it's right way up and plugged in." I activated the suit for him, spinning him around on the spot to plug the cord into the correct socket. "Lovely, there you go!"

While the Doctor was fussing, I shot a smirk over my shoulder to Arrow. Clearly, we were dealing with another buffoon. Landlubbers are so painfully incompetent aboard a ship that it is almost impossible for seasoned spacers like Arrow and I not to laugh at them from time to time. The Doctor, who by now had finally removed his helmet, was not impressed. "If you don't mind I can manage my own plugging?" He said haughtily.

Lucky for him, I was in a good mood by now at the prospect of spacing again. I ignored his statement and shook his hand. "I'm Captain Amelia, late for a few run-ins with the Procyon Armada. Nasty business but I won't bore you with my scars."

Strangely enough, Doctor Doppler did not seem too impressed by my introduction. Still, I ignored the frown forming on his face and continued by formally introducing Arrow.

"You've met my first officer, Mr Arrow. Sterling, tough, dependable, honest, brave and true."

"Please, Captain." Arrow interjected, blushing as much as a Cragorian can. For clarity, may I state that this sort of banter is the usual between myself and Arrow. We have been working together for many years and are good enough friends to poke a few jokes at each other.

"Shut up, Arrow, you know I don't mean a word of it."

The clearing of a throat interrupted my introduction. "Excuse me?" Spoke the Doctor, displeasure written across his canine features. "I hate to interrupt this – lovely banter but may I introduce to you Jim Hawkins?"

Sighing, I folded my hands behind my back and resided myself to listening to yet another boring, pompous client. He gestured to the teenager his side, the delinquent that our witless financier insisted on bringing along. The boy is a human, fifteen years old (according to the data supplied to be prior) and wore a dark hunting jacket too large for his form. A hand-me-down perhaps. The boy was gazing up in awe at the rigging but quickly pulled his attention to the conversation once he heard his name. I chose to ignore him mostly and try to at least pay attention to the Doctor's ramblings. It was lucky that I did for I was about to discover our financier is a complete blabbermouth.

"Jim, you see, is the boy who found the treas-"

"Doctor! Please!" I grabbed the man's face to stop him from announcing to the universe we were in the possession of a possible treasure map. From the corner of my eye, I could see Mr Hands – a burly roper – clearly listening into our conversation. I watched him until he growled and continued with his duties.

I wonder how long has Doctor Doppler's tongue has been wagging? Hopefully, not long enough for rumours about a treasure map to reach the ears of a band of pirates or the other kinds of scum of the galaxy. However, by the appearance of the crew, I fear they already have.

Finally, I let go of Doctor Doppler's maw and tapped his wriggling nose with a claw. "I want a word with you in my stateroom."

* * *

It's safe to say that Doctor Doppler and I have not got off to a brilliant start. Personally, I think the man is a buffoon and too incompetent to take seriously. He certainly does not think very highly of me – during our discussion in my stateroom, he had the nerve to raise his voice to me in front of Mr Arrow and our newly-appointed cabin boy Mr Hawkins.

Speaking of whom, I don't particularly care much for the teenager either. He is moody and constantly views the universe through two sullen eyes hidden under a furrowed brow. In the stateroom, he stood slouched with his hands buried in the pockets of his hunting jacket and avoided eye contact. He remained quiet and passive as I reprimanded the Doctor for his former gossiping (Arrow later told me that he was greatly amused by my choice of words) but remained withdrawn when I asked to see the fabled map.

He and the Doctor made a series of gestures before the boy hesitantly tossed an object from the deep pocket of his jacket. "Here." He grumbled, void of any respect. I caught the object with ease and gave Mr Hawkins a look of disapproval. However, this object drew my attention immediately with its…strangeness. The map is a copper sphere carved with various circles and lines. In all my years of travel, I had never come across anything near its appearance.

"Fascinating."

As I turned to lock the map in my cupboard, I decided to address Mr Hawkins' insubordination. "In the future, you will address me as 'Captain' or 'ma'am'. Is that clear?"

The teenager rolled his eyes and sighed in disgust.

"Mr Hawkins?" I said sharply, my patience slowly waning. If this behaviour was to continue, clearly the boy needed either a few hours of cooling off in the brig or to be dumped over the side of the ship and back onto port.

Thankfully, he complied. "Yes ma'am."

With the map locked safely away, I turned my attention back to the Doctor who I caught, amusingly, trying to sneak a sly peek at a chart unravelled on my desk. I warned him again to keep his mouth shut, sat down and informed him about my displeasure of the crew. He took it in an unrefined manner and responded by slamming his hands on my desk and raising his voice.

"Doctor, I'd love to chat." Standing up, I cut him off completely before he could start barraging the insults and foolish comments. "Tea, cake, the _whole_ shebang but I have a ship to launch and you have your outfit to buff up."

And with running a claw up his laughable suit, I left our financier speechless and glaring.

* * *

With Arrow escorting Doctor Doppler and our new cabin boy to the galley, I found a moment to reflect on the prospects of this voyage as I finished up preparing the watch cycle. Of course, our financier is an arrogant scientist with a delinquent child to babysit and the crew are a bunch of hostile slobs _and _our destination is probably nothing more than a fairy-tale. To think I was so excited to be heading out on an interesting voyage for once, only for it now to be ruined by the company. Thank goodness I have Arrow beside me otherwise I very much doubt I would have continued with it.

However, after finally seeing this so-called map…I am given a reason to pause and think.

My family has a history rich in all kinds of exploration, travel and adventure. As a child, I remember listening to all kinds of tales from my relatives – my father, my grandfather, even Arrow himself. I have seen and held all kinds of objects and artifacts brought to my family's collection from all corners of the galaxy. I know how to distinguish a Venusian vase from an Xenusian. I can differ victorium metal from allstonium. Yet for all my knowledge and experience, I have never come across something so unique.

The map, as I said before, is a sphere purely made of a metal I've never seen before. Originally, I assumed it was copper or bronze yet on further inspection, the map shows no sign of corrosion. It's rather heavy and I am currently considering borrowing a set of scales from the galley to weigh it. As for its size, it fits rather neatly into one's own hand. If it was not for the eccentric engravings, I would have mistaken it for a toy.

Across its surface are circles in various sizes, connected to each other by lines of different lengths. The circles act as buttons and I assume that they must be pressed in order for the map to open. After the launch, I will have to use it to calculate our course. I've initially been told to sail towards the Magellanic Cloud but navigation from that point must be done by myself using this map (if any details were to leak about our course, we could have some frightful encounters later down the line).

Until then, the map remains locked away in my cupboard with the key upon my person at all times. If someone is so desperate to get their hands on this map, they will have to go through me first.


	2. Fighting Like Cats and Dogs

**AN: Thank you for the reviews, follows, and favourites - they are much appreciated!**

Date: 002.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, approaching the Magellan Current.

At two bells, our ship was ready to launch.

The RLS _Legacy_ has been in my charge for a few years now, often accompanying myself and Arrow on our voyages. Now and again our contracts would call for the need of a larger ship, but rarely did I find myself commanding a different vessel. Rather like myself, the _Legacy_ has been out of commission from the Royal Navy for a few years and has been resigned to the Reserves. She was previously a Heavy Scout Class ship, which usually can deliver a strong broadside attack in battle. However, the _Legacy_ no longer sees such action and as a result, her gunnery decks have been transformed into a convenient longboat bay which is perfect for storage. We are not defenceless however; there are two perfectly good cannons mounted mid-deck on either port and starboard side. Still, the loss of cannon weight makes her lighter and faster for travel. She might not be as hulking or as intimidating as other warships, but she is fast and she can get us from one side of the Empire to the other without a problem. She is a lot smaller than some of the other ships I have served on but I am grateful to still even have a ship after retiring. For a while I thought I would be confined to land for the rest of my life until Arrow proposed joining the Reserves, where my rank would allow us to be given our own ship and we could work in between drills as for-hires. This decision may have saved my life. The thought of living as a civilian frightened me and depressed me so much before, but now I no longer have to fear that. Even if working in the Reserves is not as glamorous or adventurous as being a part of the Royal Navy, there's still no better feeling than the one I experience when standing at the helm of my own command.

That is, until someone in a clunky metal suit decides to spoil the moment.

"Why did you bring him _here_?" I whispered to Arrow as I watched our foolish financier gaze in awe at our navigational controls. We were standing on the bridge and waiting for our spotter, a Zandarian by the name of Onus, to give us the all clear. Doctor Doppler had joined by Arrow's invitation.

"I thought he might want to view the launch." Arrow replied in an equally hushed tone.

The launch is one of my most favourite moments of spacing – the feeling as you slip away from gravity's pull, the looming excitement of freedom and adventure, the absolute thrill as thrusters pushes you out into open space. All these things stir an immense feeling of euphoria within me. The last thing I wanted was for it to be stained with the sounds of loose bolts and unoiled metal creaking.

But I must admit, it was refreshing to see someone else interested in such a moment. Usually, most of my past financiers rested in their cabins during the launch, and the crews already had become numb to the thrilling feeling of venturing into space. Doctor Doppler had evidently never travelled in such a way. This could be his first ever launch - maybe it was only fair he had the chance to enjoy it from the bridge.

But then he decided to try climbing over the railing, looking at how our flying bridges attached to the main bridge. I watched him with a scowl and opened my mouth to condemn him below decks, until a shout from the crow's nest melted away my anger and replaced it with anticipation.

"We are all clear, Captain!"

_Finally._

"Well, my friend, are ready to raise this creaking tub?" I asked Arrow, the prospect of returning to space lifted a smile onto my face. Mr Arrow saw my expression, cracked a smile himself and began to shout out the orders.

The deck became alive with activity and I decided to take the moment to inspect how our new crew handled the launch. I watched them scuttle to their stations, some rather sluggishly until Mr Arrow called out to them to hurry it up. It would take some drilling to get this crew into the right shape. However, they certainly knew how to rig a ship and how to unfurl the sails without an issue.

As the sails caught the bright sunlight, the _Legacy _began to slip away from her berth and rise from Crescentia. Just like the ship herself, the rest of us too began to free ourselves from gravity's grasp. Doctor Doppler gave a small noise of surprise before leisurely leaning back and lifting his feet above his head. When the artificial gravity was engaged, he inelegantly landed on his head with a clatter. Arrow nor I said a word to him; I simply called out our navigational heading to the helmsman, but it was rather amusing to watch him struggle back onto his feet while sweeping any dust from his antique suit. If he was unaware of the gravity loss, he surely had no clue about how powerful the first thrust of the boosters would be. As we were about to head off at full speed, I thought it best to give our Doctor a small warning to brace himself. It seemed that Doctor Doppler had decided to take up a policy of ignoring me; he did not recognise nor reply to my warning. I couldn't help but smirk, knowing full well what was coming. Surely enough, as the thrusters blasted us forward, Doctor Doppler sailed past me with a yell. Yet more clattering and rattling ensued. I didn't look back – to do so, I might have lost my composure.

Yet we were away, and I was back at the helm of my own ship. There truly is nothing like being out in the Etherium - the weather was clear, with strong sunlight and a gentle solar breeze to carry us out. Crescentia soon became nothing more than a speck in the distance and we found ourselves joining a migration of space whales. They sailed all around us in V formation, singing to each other in melodies no scientist or spacer could ever understand. Our guests were enthralled by this sight. Doctor Doppler quickly made his way up one of the flying bridges to get a better view. He might have seen the beasts as a wonder to behold, but to spacers they are viewed as dangerous, unpredictable hazards.

"Proceed with caution, Mr Turnbuckle." I ordered as I moved to keep an eye that our over-zealous financier did not make an unplanned trip overboard. "I don't want this ship reduced to matchsticks."

"Aye, Captain." He replied.

Just as I expected, Doctor Doppler precariously leaning over the starboard side of the ship. Even worse, the man had a camera in his hand and was trying to take a photograph of a passing whale. The whale had seen him and positioned one of its siphons to take aim at the Doctor. Obviously, the whale had not taken a liking to him.

"Ah, Doctor, I would stand clear from that-"

My warning came too late; the whale expelled its ink all over the Doctor and his outdated suit. In spite of myself, I could not help but laugh. Never before have I witnessed someone experience a launch so disastrously. The poor man seemed to stumble from one unfortunate accident to another. Maybe this would turn the Doctor off spacing for a good long while. How unlucky…

My attention was turned from Doctor Doppler and his misfortune to the ship's cook, Mr Silver. The cyborg had shouted unceremoniously up to me from the mid-deck. He said some hollow compliments (something about sloops and paint), obviously trying to toady up to his commanding officer. I dismissed him sharply and pointed out that his cabin boy had been running idle around the deck for the entire launch. He slunk off to address the cabin boy and I turned to address Doctor Doppler as he dropped back onto the bridge.

"I hope the launch was to your satisfaction, Doctor?" I held back a chuckle when I saw him standing there, covered in head to foot in whale ink, looking absolutely miserable. The only part of him spared was the part of his face he was able to shield with his camera. _Ha, _I thought. _That's what you get for your rudeness earlier._

His cheeks burned red. "Frightfu- I mean - _delightful_, Captain. Err … I've never had an experience like it."

_Oh, I can believe that._

"Well, I hope you've learnt your lesson, Doctor – and you better clean yourself up before you drip anymore whale waste over my deck."

Doctor Doppler looked at me sharply. "What do you mean 'learned' my 'lesson'?" He asked in a tart tone of voice.

I smirked and tilted my head slightly. "I meant that next time I give you some advice, it might benefit you to actually listen to it. Mr Arrow? Please escort Doctor Doppler to his quarters."

And with that, a scowling Doctor Doppler descended below with Mr Arrow, leaving a trail of whale-inked footsteps behind him.

* * *

It had been a long day and I was ready to settle down for my evening meal at six bells. I invited Mr Arrow to sup with me in my quarters to hear his thoughts on our first day with this new crew. Arrow had spent the afternoon giving our financier a tour of the ship but he reported a disturbance – apparently our cabin boy had not wasted anytime trading blows with another member of the crew.

"The lead rigger, Mr Scroop." Arrow shook his head as he stirred his bowl of bonzabeast stew. "He is a hostile one, ma'am. Earlier today he got rather shirty with me after I gave him orders in the tops. He also reacted violently to some trouble with Mr Silver's pet. He flew into a temper after it got too close to him and scared the little blob off somewhere. He tried to trap it in his claw but failed. I believe he attempted to squash the thing."

"A loose cannon, perhaps. Then again, this whole crew seems to be full of them. Some extra work should cool him down." I replied, blowing on my own spoonful of stew. At least Mr Silver has proved himself to be a decent cook. "Speaking of loose cannons, where has our financier gone off too? I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since you escorted him to his quarters earlier."

"I am not sure, ma'am. I did inform him dinner would be served at six bells and that he was welcome to join us."

"Maybe he is still buffing that suit of his." I jested with a smirk. "Or has taken his meal with the crew in the galley."

"Perhaps, ma'am, although I don't think Doctor Doppler would enjoy their company."

"I am sure he will learn that soon enough." I replied, finishing my bowl and pushing it away from me. "For now, though, I do believe I will inspect the ship. Will you conduct your own inspection before first watch, please Mr Arrow?"

"Of course, ma'am. I will report to you then."

"Excellent. In the meantime, I want you to hand out the watch schedule to the crew. The sooner we have the watches up and running, the sooner I can rest easy. Oh – and if you find Doctor Doppler, inform him he has the first watch with me."

"Yes ma'am." Arrow saluted. With a smile, I retrieved my hat from its hook and headed out onto the deck.

* * *

Night was settling in fast when I wrapped up my inspection, satisfied with the results, and headed towards the empty bridge. A cacophony of laughter and voices came from the galley as the crew continued to sup, a warm glow of light emitted from the stairway. The cabin boy Hawkins was mopping the forecastle decking alone. The helm was on auto-control while our helmsman took his supper in the galley. I checked with the controls and was satisfied we were on course. Briefly, I looked up at the sky and admire the stars shining in their thousands. Despite spacing for many years, the sight of space still impresses me to this day. I allowed myself to smile. It's good to be home.

The sound of footsteps approaching the bridge caused my ears to twitch. Looking down, I saw our missing Doctor nonchalantly wandering the mid-deck, his own eyes fixed looking up. He had changed from his fossil of a suit – instead he was wearing a long red coat and set of old-fashioned civilian clothes. Even from my position on the bridge, I could see the creases in his threadbare shirt and the scuffs on his shoes. Surprisingly, he is a lot skinnier than I originally thought. Dressed in such shabby and unkempt clothing, he looked almost like an unloved scarecrow.

"Ah, Doctor!" I shouted down to him. Doctor Doppler flinched at the sound and stopped in his tracks. I moved to join him down on the mid-deck, trying not to laugh again after remembering his face as he clattered around the bridge during the launch. Doctor Doppler, on the other hand, was nowhere near as amused to see me as I him. He stood stiffly and regarded me with cold eyes. "Mr Arrow and I missed you at supper. I am surprised you did not want to join us?"

The Doctor blinked, clearly surprised. "Supper?"

"Surely you did not forget, Doctor?"

"No-no, I…I was not hungry." His stomach betrayed him with a growl. He frowned furiously and avoided my gaze. Judging from the slight mussing of his hair, I may assume that he had fallen asleep in his cabin and missed the time. I fought back a smirk but as amusing as it was to catch the Doctor's bold-faced lie, I could not let him skip his meals. I still have a duty to ensure the health of my passengers.

"Mr Silver should still have some stew leftover in the galley, however I would wait until the crew have finished theirs. They have proven themselves to be rather a rowdy lot during their meal-time."

As if on cue, there came a clatter of broken crockery from the galley, followed by a chorus of cheers and laughter. It took all my restraint not to roll my eyes.

Doctor Doppler cringed. "I-uh- I think that would be wise, too."

"Nevertheless, skipping meals is not ideal for your health and you should eat something preferably before the first watch, Doctor. You and I will be taking it and I do not want to listen to your stomach growling for the full four hours."

This certainly caught the Doctor off guard. He looked at me blankly for a few seconds before frowning and stuttering to gather his words. "I-I-I am not sure what you mean, Captain."

_Of course he doesn't_, I thought bitterly. I took a deep breath. "What is there to be confused about, Doctor?" I said, trying not to roll my eyes.

"What four hours? What watch?"

My whole body tensed in annoyance. Did this civilian seriously not even bother to open one book about spacing before setting out today?

I gave Doctor Doppler a hard smile. "Why Doctor, have you not ever heard of the ship's watch? There must be at least two members of the crew on deck at every hour to respond to emergencies and hazards ensuring that this voyage is continuing smoothly. Every four hours, the watchmen's shift ends, and another two arrive to take up the position. The shifts are to begin tonight with the first watch at twenty hundred hours, and you and I are the first watchmen."

The man's face paled and his frown slackened. "What do you mean twenty hundre-"

"Eight o'clock, Doctor."

"B-but I'm not a _hand_, Captain." He protested, gesturing helplessly with his hands. They started to do useless things – rubbing the back of the Doctor's neck, running his fingers through his hair – easily conveying his growing anger and panic. His face was also regaining its colour; slowly but surely, his cheeks were turning a hot pink. "You cannot expect me to be able to work like a crew member?"

"Nevertheless, everyone on board must pull their weight – and with this skeleton of a crew you have hired, we need every set of eyes we have on watch and that includes yours."

A growl escaped the Doctor's throat and his voice started to rise. "But you can't _treat_ me like this! I am the financier of this voyage, I am the one who hired you-"

And here is where Doctor Doppler made his mistake. The man thought it wise to raise a finger and point it straight at me. My patience ended rather swiftly – my lip curled with a snarl, I could feel my eyes narrow and I raised a hand to bat his finger away.

"You, sir, are _not_ the one paying my wages." I hissed. "That honour lies with the Navy Office, my commission comes directly from the Admiralty – the same Admiralty _you_ sought out for funding for this expedition. They are the ones who hired me to command this ship and their orders are for me to do what is necessary to get _you_ from point A to B and back to A, however_ I_ see fit and if _I_ see fit to add you to the watch cycle, I_ will_ add you to the watch cycle."

Doctor Doppler's jaw dropped in his panic. "But I still do not deserve to be treated like a crewmember by- "

"If you were truly being treated like a crewmember, you would be swabbing the decks with Mr Hawkins right this minute!" I said, pointing up to where the boy was carrying out his duties. He must have been feigning not to hear the Doctor and I's discussion, as he didn't even turn his head at the mention of his name (something I was grateful for). "But even you have to do your part aboard this ship! Therefore, I am ordering you to do your duty and stand watch! If you are so against the idea, then you are welcome to make a complaint to a naval base commander at the Magellanic Cloud."

"I will certainly be doing that!" The Doctor snapped.

"Good!" I snapped back. "Maybe if you are lucky they will transfer to you a different Captain to continue on this voyage but in the meantime, this is still my ship and you are still a watchman."

The Doctor huffed, his face scorching red. "Fine! If you _insist_\- "

"I do more than _insist_, Doctor, I order it!" I said with a huff of my own. This man was truly riling me up with his childish, spoilt behaviour. "Truly Doctor, I do not understand what this fuss is all about. It is not as if you will be doing any manual labour! I simply need you there to fill the role and act as a messenger."

"A messenger, am I? I thought you said that watchmen are meant to 'respond to emergencies and hazards'?"

"They do, Doctor." I replied through gritted teeth. "But you hardly know what counts as a hazard which is why I have decided to pair you up with me. With my years of knowledge, I am sure I can make up for your inexperience."

"But I do have some experience!" The Doctor claimed indignantly.

At this, I raised an eyebrow. "You have stood as a watchman before?"

"Well-no, but- "

"Have you ever been to _space_ before?"

"No, but- "

"Then how could you possibly have any experience with dealing with navigational hazards on a ship like this?" I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. This man was being unbelievably stubborn.

"Because I am a _physicist_." He declared firmly as he adjusted the spectacles perched on his large, Canid nose. "I've studied stars for years, I'm probably as familiar with stellar phenomena as you are! There could be something I can help with...my science could prove useful in that regard."

The words left my lips reactively. "I highly doubt it, Doctor. You are a_ theoretical _scientist, are you not? What use could that possibly be?"

This was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.

Doctor Doppler was so shocked from my statement that he stopped talking all together. He blinked a few times, eyes widening and instinctively took a step back as though I had physically shoved him. "W-What? The _insult_-how dare-I-" He spluttered for a few seconds like a dying engine. Finally, he clenched his jaw and glared at me with all the intimidation and anger a stringy little man like him could muster. "You are impossible." He growled.

"I am your commanding officer," I replied coolly. "And if you speak to me like that again, I will truly treat you like a hand and throw you head-first into the brig. Eight o'clock, Doctor. I will see you at the bridge. Do not be late."

And with that I spun on my heel and marched away, silently fuming. _Odd_, I thought to myself as I returned to my cabin and shut the door tight behind me. _Unlike me to speak so rashly…_

* * *

I was waiting on the bridge when Mr Arrow reported his inspection of the ship. The ship's bell rang clearly and sharply – upon the eight chime, Mr Arrow appeared in the very corner of my eye. "All clear and running smoothly, Captain." He tipped his hat upon approach.

"Good," I nodded firmly. "That concurs with my own inspection - and with that, let's begin the watch."

We were still resuming the heading two-one-zero-zero, on the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, steady at cruising speed. This is a direct route from Crescentia Spaceport to the Magellanic Cloud and is one constantly monitored and surveyed by Royal Navy Ships as it links Port Ivy with Crescentia. Therefore, if any word has gotten out about our destination (which I think highly possible thanks to our loose-lipped financier), any low-life pirate will have a hard time picking us off. I have travelled through the Magellan Bridge many times and consider it to be one of the safest space roads from Crescentia.

And, if we are lucky, we may be able to communicate with a passing ship and get a weather report.

"It seems you are missing a watchman, Captain." Mr Arrow commented as he surveyed the bridge. I pursed my lips.

"Yes," I said. "Doctor Doppler did not seem impressed when I informed him of his duties earlier."

"He did not seem very happy when I saw him either, ma'am."

My ears twitched at this. "You found him, then?"

"I visited his cabin earlier during my rounds. He mentioned that you had already informed him of his watch. He had a face like thunder, ma'am. Peculiar, seeing as he is a man of astral science. You would think he would appreciate the opportunity to observe the stars."

"The watches are not for staring at stars, Mr Arrow. They're for observing obstacles and any potential dangers that threaten this voyage." I chided him, but playfully. Mr Arrow is far older than myself and although I am his superior in rank aboard this ship, and the idea of me scolding a man old enough to be my great-grandfather amuses me greatly. However, a sullen thought came to me and it strangely made my stomach lurch. "Although, I do not think it is his watch that Doctor Doppler is so furious about."

"Oh, ma'am?"

"We crossed paths after my inspection and he was not impressed that he has to stand watch like everybody else on this ship. We both lost our tempers and I may have made a rather…_thoughtless_ comment that he took offense to."

"Well...I doubt that ma'am. Just today before launch, you called the man an imbecile and a neophyte to his very face, did you not?"

"I did," I admitted. "But this time I insulted his work rather than his character." I looked up at Arrow slyly from the corner of my eye and told him exactly what I said to Doctor Doppler. Once my recount of the conversation was finished, my closest friend closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Captain… that is a low blow to deliver to any person, especially someone who prides themselves on their work. Was it not you who said to me once – '_they can insult me as much as they like but they cannot deny that I am a damn good spacer_'?"

It was – many years ago when my leadership was challenged again and again by less talented commanders who rued my station. They could complain about my unorthodox strategies or questionable warfare however much they liked but, in the end, I got the results I wanted and usually did a damn finer job at it than they did. That is, until they finally found an excuse to force my hand and retire me to the reserves.

"I was merely trying to make a point that his field of work might not be best adapted to the practicalities of maintaining a ship."

"So, you condemned him and his beloved science as useless to us?"

"Only in a manner of speaking," I sniffed, slightly rebuffed at Arrow's bluntness. "He is a theoretical scientist. He theorises about space and physics. Theories will not help me avoid asteroids or catch the warning sound of distant cannon fire."

"Cannon fire?" Arrow chuckled. "Captain, must you be so vigilant. We are not on the frontiers anymore."

"Pirates exist, do they not?"

"Yes ma'am, but the Magellan Bridge is a perfectly safe shipping lane. Pirates won't risk getting caught by Navy vessels no matter how rich the bounty. What use are jewels when you are hanging from a yardarm of a Royal Navy frigate?"

"Nevertheless, Doctor Doppler is no seasoned spotter."

"Then why bother making him a watchman?"

"Because, Arrow, every soul on this ship must pull their weight. Doctor Doppler has hired us – what, a crew of sixteen? No boatswain, no carpenter, no purser, not even a surgeon!"

"And you intend to punish him for his oversight with forcing him to join the watches?"

"We are lacking numbers, and this is no pleasure cruise. Doctor Doppler is an extra set of eyes. Even with his inexperience, he will do. Needs must." I snapped. "I don't appreciate my decisions being called into question like that."

"I apologise, ma'am. I meant you no offence."

Sighing, I let my irritations slip away and relaxed my shoulders. "Oh tish-tosh, Arrow. I have always appreciated your insight. I need someone like you who is willing to tell me that I'm wrong - especially when I won't admit it myself."

"I'm flattered Captain." Arrow gave me a crooked smile. "But I do have one more insight that you may not be happy to hear."

"And what is that?"

"You have to apologise to Doctor Doppler."

My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. "No. Absolutely not."

"You know you have to."

"You know I do _not_ \- I have _never_\- especially not after the way he spoke to me- "

"Captain-"

"Arrow, no. I am not apologising to that cretin-"

"You said yourself that it was a misguided comment."

"I said it was a _thoughtless_ comment, not a misguided one."

"He may surprise us, Captain, but it is up to you." Arrow finished with a sigh. "Please, just remember that it is going to be an awfully long voyage and if you and the Doctor are at loggerheads from the get-go, it is going to feel even longer."

My stomach was roiling with anger now. I felt my whole body tense up and gave Arrow a cold look. "Mr Arrow, with all due respect, please leave my bridge."

Mr Arrow stood upright and saluted. "Yes ma'am, of course. Goodnight Captain."

"Goodnight Mr Arrow."

I kept my stare fixed on the horizon as I listen to Arrow retreat below decks to his cabin. Once he was gone and I was alone, I let out a long, low sigh. He was right, of course. This voyage could take months to see through and was I really prepared to waste my energy in pitiful quarrels with an asinine canine? Besides, if Doctor Doppler were to go capering about Crescentia with an unflattering review of my services… I certainly do not want to be blacklisted, especially by some maladroit astrophysicist. An apology was the only right course of action. As Arrow had pointed out, I would hate such comments to be made about my abilities. I cannot fault Doctor Doppler for reacting in such a manner. If he had said such words about me, I probably would not have been so passive. Damn Arrow for being so right.

But I do need to find a way to curb this man's attitude. It will not do to stand someone raising their voice at me on this ship, especially on more than one occasion. This will certainly have to be addressed in the future. Hopefully, if and when I do make an apology, the Doctor will have to good grace to apologise in turn as well. That would transition into the conversation nicely.

Doctor Doppler finally decided to emerge from below decks just as I was brooding Arrow's words. He approached slowly and I turned to greet him, ready to swallow my pride. His jaw clenched so tightly I could see the tendons in his cheeks twitching.

"Doctor, there you are." I said curtly. "I was beginning to wonder if I would have to come and fetch you."

He did not reply, but instead regarded me coldly. His hands balled into fists and he shoved them deep into the pockets of his red coat, stiffly moving to stand away from me and looked away. "Captain." He said eventually with a hard voice. I rolled my eyes at this petty pouting.

_Oh well, _I thought. _Why bother putting it off any longer._

"I…believe I owe you an apology, Doctor." I said hesitantly. In my peripheral vision, I could see his head snap towards me in shock and I turned mine to meet his eyes.

"Y-yes?"

I held my head up high, jutting out my chin, and made sure to speak in a firm tone. This might be an apology, but I wanted to leave no question who was in charge still. "I made an ill comment earlier about you as a scientist. I am sorry for my insult and please know I have every respect for your field of work."

Doctor Doppler remained silent and still. "Oh…" He croaked and started to squirm, as though he was unsure how to react. Eventually, his stance began to relax and he stood a little taller, his head tilting slightly to the side. There was a ghost of smirk beginning to form on his face and instantly, there was a sudden pounding in my ears. "_Oh_. Well, thank you. I'm glad that you have recognised your behaviour was- "

"I am not apologising for my behaviour." I interjected sharply, wiping the smirk right off Doctor Doppler's face. My earlier anger was quickly boiling up again. "I was apologising for insulting your work, something _I_ would greatly be offended by. Like how I was insulted when _you_ questioned my authority-"

"I never did such a thing!" The Doctor countered with an equal amount of irritation. "And you can't deny that were certainly very rude earlier- "

"You argued with me about my decision to include you in the watch cycle!" I snapped back. "A direct challenge to my orders – and you are the one who had the nerve to raise your voice to me – again! For the second time today! I am your commanding officer, Doctor! If you were a naval officer you could be whipped for such subordination!"

Doctor Doppler flinched at this, and stepped back from me as though he was afraid I would somehow produce a whip from behind my back and start lashing it against him. The flash of fear in is eyes stalled my rant and I decided to hold my tongue.

Clearly, we were getting nowhere.

"I've apologised, so we shall leave it there – but _never_ raise your voice to me again, Doctor."

"But-"

"I said leave it." I sneered and turned away, my blood boiling. Already I could feel a headache approaching and I had to take a few quiet, deep breaths to slow my pulse down. I heard Doctor Doppler retreat to the other side of the bridge and out of my reach. A wise decision – I was so infuriated by his behaviour, it was tempting to throttle him.

Curse this man and his insistent complaining and whinging. Of course I have had financiers with similar attitudes in the past – men with heads inflated by their egos, who were floored that I would dare treat them with the same courtesies as the common crew. Usually I could deal with them smartly and coolly but there is something about this Doctor Doppler that causes my anger to rise unchecked. Maybe it is the instincts of our species but I have always brushed that off as stereotypical nonsense. Truly, I think it is because I took a big blow to my pride by apologising today only to have it thrown back in my face by that smug, arrogant canine.

I tried to get the conversation out of my mind by focusing my attention on the horizon or staring intently at the ship's sonars and digital maps but no matter what I tried to distract myself with, I kept thinking back to the Doctor and I's argument – especially the way he dared to _smirk_ at my apology! Occasionally, I would shoot a glance over my shoulder to see what he was up to. He was always looking up at the stars.

It was no good. I was too humiliated, too agitated to concentrate.

I decided that the only way was to push Doctor Doppler further away from the vicinity so I told him (rather coldly) that he had my permission to retrieve his telescope and use the watch shift to stargaze for any research he wished to complete. He looked at me honestly perplexed, as though I had done something nice.

At least he had the decency to thank me, even if he did not have enough of it to gracefully accept my apology for my earlier comment.

"Take it as a considerate gesture from me," I said. "And you are free to use the flying bridges for some more advantageous angles. I will remain here on the bridge."

_And far away from you._


	3. Detente

**AN: Thank you to all follows, favourites, and reviews!**

Date: 003.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy,_ the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, approaching the Magellan Current.

When I first emerged from my cabin this morning, I checked with the bridge for a report. It was cool and crisp outside, with a fresh breeze lifting the sails and my mood. Beneath my feet, the ship rocked with the unsteady winds - a sign we were fast approaching the Magellan Current. Thankfully after years of experience, this erratic rocking no longer affects me once I have found my space-legs. Arrow was already on deck as he and the aggressive rigger Mr Scroop had the morning watch. The sight of him was already beginning to wane the ever-persistent headache that had plagued me all night. I gave him a warm smile as I approached, acknowledging his salute with a touch of my hat. "Mr Arrow, I presume you've had a rather uneventful watch?"

"Not nearly as so, ma'am, but we are on schedule and still on course." He said in a low voice. His eyes regarded Mr Scroop, who was prowling around the quarterdeck, with caution. "I would rather report to you in your cabin later."

I nodded, fixing my gaze on the rigger. Mr Scroop is an Mantavor of the red-and-black variety and watches his surroundings with two yellow eyes as bright as lamps. Initially I paid him no more attention than the rest of the crew, but Mr Arrow had voiced his worries about him over out supper yesterday. Despite being on board for only a day, the rigger already had three infractions, including brawling with our cabin boy. "Of course, Mr Arrow. At the end of your watch, report to me in my cabin. However, I do believe you are going to miss our coffee."

Arrow smirked. "How unfortunate, ma'am. I shall weep."

I chuckled. "If I am needed, I will be in my cabin, enjoying a nice hot breakfast." I touched my hat again and left Arrow laughing to himself on the bridge, shivering in the chill morning.

* * *

Six bells came and passed, and Mr Hawkins had still not arrived with my breakfast and café lattoid. He arrived twenty minutes late, withdrawn as usual. I glared at him from behind my desk, drumming my fingers on its surface.

"It's about time, Mr Hawkins." I reprimanded him. "I do not tolerate idleness on this ship. You _will_ be on time tomorrow or you can expect some extra duties from Mr Silver to make up for lost time."

The boy replied grimly with a basic "Yes ma'am," and dumped my breakfast before me, spilling my coffee as the ship rocked unsteadily. I raised an eyebrow at him as a warning. The boy withdrew even further into his sulk and left my cabin with a stiff bow. A troubled youth, but nothing a few weeks of hard work cannot iron out. Hopefully that rebellious spirit of his will break sooner rather than later.

I ate my breakfast in silence while thinking over Arrow's impending report. I heard no disturbances through the night so my best guess at that moment was that Mr Scroop was not following orders or being idle in his watch. Maybe Arrow caught him asleep, which would have resulted in him hanging from a yardarm if this was a true naval crew. I sat back in my chair and pushed my empty bowl away from me. Just my luck for us to be saddled with such a recalcitrant spacer.

Arrow arrived promptly at eight bells, once he had been relieved of his shift by the next set of watchmen. He squeezed through my stateroom door and locked it behind him. "Mr Arrow," I said. "Here for your report?"

"Yes ma'am." Arrow moved to stand before my desk, his hands clasped behind his back. "When I arrived on the bridge to begin my watch this morning, I found Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy shirking their duties during their watch."

I raised an eyebrow. "Shirking their duties? How so?"

"They were playing cards, ma'am."

A sudden wave of fury washed over me. How ignorant, how senseless must these two spacers be to jeopardise the lives of everyone on board and the success of this voyage for a game of cards? My lips curled into a snarl. "The _fools_." I hissed. "Have you already issued a punishment?"

"No ma'am, I thought it would be best to leave that to you."

I drummed my fingers on my desk. "I want them both scrubbing the heads all day – toilets, showers, the lot. Please inspect their work to make sure it's satisfactory, Arrow. I want you to be able to see your reflection in the porcelain. And they can stand on watch all night with the other watchmen as well. Hopefully this will be enough to teach them to take their duties seriously."

Arrow nodded. "Aye, Captain. A suitable punishment, if I may say so ma'am."

"You may – now, I believe you will be breaking your fast before doing you rounds, Mr Arrow?" I busied myself by cleaning my dishes away, ready for Mr Hawkins to collect them.

"Yes ma'am-"

"Could you start Mr Greedy's and Mr Pigors' punishment as soon as you have completed them and reported to me?"

"Of course, ma'am, but if I may…"

I stopped clearing my desk and looked up at Arrow. Being a Cragorian, he towers over me by a good few feet, yet I have never felt small by his presence. I smiled at him and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Arrow?"

"I just wanted to ask how your watch with Doctor Doppler went, ma'am?"

"Ah…well, I did apologise to him like you suggested. However, our Doctor Doppler is not the kind of man who can recognise how difficult apologising is and accept it gracefully." I said sharply, folding my hands behind my back. I was stewing in rage during my watch yesterday over the Doctor's rude response to my apology. Once Doctor Doppler had returned with a telescope and a notebook, I had given him the cold shoulder and refused to say another word to him until our watch ended when I coldly reminded him that our next watch would be tonight at the same time for the remainder of the week. He just gave a slight nod and disappeared below decks with his proverbial tail between his legs. "It only dissolved into more bickering but I have no sympathy, nor do I regret my words. It is what he deserves for his behaviour."

"Oh dear…I had hoped for a better outcome." Mr Arrow sighed and shook his head sadly.

"You and me both, Arrow."

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation. It was Mr Hawkins ready to take my dishes back to the galley. Arrow unlocked the door and let him in. Still withdrawn as ever, Mr Hawkins looked no happier than he did an hour earlier. I thanked him for his service, and the cabin boy left, scowling.

"A disturbed boy…" I muttered, rolling my eyes.

Arrow agreed and I turned to look out the windows of my stateroom. The Etherium was clear today and the skies bright blue and peppered with stars. Some brief streams of clouds drifted in the distance but as we were in no need to resupply our water containers yet. There will be plenty more as we reach the current to the Magellanic Cloud Judging by the swaying of the ship, we are hitting the unsettled space that surrounds currents – all the displaced air from the current is pushed away and makes for some unsteady spacing. Our engines were working away just to keep us straight. The rising and falling deck did not undermine my appreciate of the sight before me, however. Watching the Etherium has always had a powerful calming effect on me. While I was staring, I caught the reflection of Arrow watching me from behind my desk.

"Yes, Mr Arrow?"

"Captain, about Doctor Doppler…"

Even the sound of his name irritated me. My shoulders tensed. "What about him, Arrow? I hope you are not about to suggest I make another apology?"

"No, ma'am, but I do not think any tension between yourself and our financier for the reminder of the voyage will be of any benefit to anyone." He said.

"Do you think I enjoy quarrelling with him? I agreed with your sentiments yesterday and that's why I decided an apology was necessary, but it is not my fault the Doctor decided to throw it back in my face."

"I agree ma'am, but maybe some diplomacy is in order."

I turned sharply. "What do you mean by that?"

"That maybe constantly undermining our financier will only cause rifts and not solve them." Arrow replied softly. He looked at me with a caring look, one I had often seen him give when I was a child or an insolent teenager. One that reminded me of my father.

"Maybe I am not interested in solving any rifts." I shot back. "I have a ship to run, I cannot waste my time coddling a churlish scientist because his feelings are hurt. And neither should you – to your inspection, Mr Arrow. That's an order."

Arrow knew better than to argue against that. He bowed and left my cabin swiftly. I remained by the windows, brewing in a black mood. Arrow only ever offers his advice to benefit me, and while I know he means well, I have no intentions of making amends with Doctor Doppler. His behaviour yesterday has left an unfortunate impression on me. Even for a landlubber, Doctor Doppler had proven himself ignorant by blindly hiring this shambolic crew because he bought their claim that they were a fine set of spacers. He showed up in an out-dated spacesuit, crashed around my decking during the launch and even managed to find himself completely doused in whale ink. Bumbling and belligerent, it's true that he won't be of any use to me on this voyage. I always say what I think, and it is not my fault if Doctor Delbert Doppler cannot handle the facts. Let the scientist sulk, I would only dread conversing with him anyway.

I have more important tasks to focus my attention upon.

* * *

I have the most infernal luck.

After the morning rounds were complete and Arrow had reported the results of his inspection, I had the morning hours free to begin navigating our course. As Doctor Doppler has failed to hire a navigator for us, I will have to take over navigation duties throughout this voyage. Luckily enough, navigating our course towards the Magellanic Cloud is fairly simple to myself but official co-ordinates will be needed for this very logbook. Even if I am retired, the bloody Navy still badgers me even to this day -they want written evidence of every change in heading and course, every change in speed, and every single bearing to every single insignificant object. Bah!

Once Arrow had left my stateroom to oversee the punishments of Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors, I locked the cabin door behind him and moved to retrieve the map from my store cupboard. It was cold and heavy in my hand as I carried it to my desk. Leaning back in my chair, I tossed it from one hand to the other.

The object still perplexes me even now. I still cannot identify the metal of its make, nor do I have any clue how this sphere is meant to work as a functional map to the most sought-out treasure in nautical myth and legend. What perplexes me even more is how to bloody open the god-damn thing! I must have wasted a good thirty to sixty minutes pressing all kinds of codes and sequences into the circular buttons on the map's surface yet no matter what I did, the map remained to be a cold dead orb.

"Blast it!" I snarled. Maybe I have missed something? Are they not buttons meant to be pressed?

I tried twisting the sphere in half with no avail. After wasting another hour or so, I gave up. I returned the map to its hiding place and resorted to plotting our course to the Cloud the conventional way – with celestial star charts, astrocompasses, dividers and whatnots. I occasionally returned to the bridge to use my sextant to determine our exact positioning. At this moment, we were just outside the Magellan Current. I made a slight adjustment with the helm so we will smoothly enter the current tomorrow, but it will require a slight trimming later this evening to keep us directly on course for the current.

However, I will need to find a way to open this map before we arrive at the Magellanic Cloud and I have a terrible feeling on how to do so.

* * *

Arrow hit the nail on the head at lunch.

We were sat in my stateroom with a plateful of cheese, purps, and ship biscuits. Being only a day out from Crescentia, the cheese was fresh and soft and the purps still ripe and juicy. Hopefully we will reach the Cloud well within a fortnight and just in time to replenish our food stocks with fresh fruit and dairy. Out here in space, food often spoils and towards the end we are forced to rely on hard salted meat and tinned food for nutrients. Ship biscuit, however, remains a faithful constant – hard as rock and likely to break your teeth if you don't soak it in something first. For example, during this lunch, Arrow and I were dunking our biscuits in our tea before eating.

"Perhaps Doctor Doppler knows how to open it, ma'am." He said as he lifted his teacup to his lips. "Shall I find him for you and ask him to report to your cabin?"

I waved my hand. "No need to bother, Arrow, I have to inspect the ship soon and I will probably find him then. Have you seen him this morning by any chance?"

"Briefly in the wardroom during breakfast, ma'am. He seemed quite tired. He mentioned something about taking observations so I assume he will be on deck somewhere. However, as I have been overseeing Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors all day, I have had little time above deck."

"Not to worry, Arrow," I said. "This is not a particularly large ship. There are only so many places he could be. I'm bound to run into him during my rounds. So – how are our slackers enjoying their time in the heads?"

Arrow chuckled as he helped himself to a slice of purp. "They were not impressed at first, ma'am. Lots of grumbling and muttering under their breaths but they soon cooled down. Their work is a bit slacking ma'am, so I made them re-scrub the toilets."

"You could not see your reflection in the porcelain, was it?" I grinned at Arrow over the rim of my teacup. Arrow returned the smile.

"Indeed ma'am. I take your orders very seriously."

"To the letter, it seems."

We finished our lunch promptly and Arrow returned to the ship's bathroom facilities to continue his supervision over Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors, leaving me with a convenient window to update this log. Once Mr Hawkins arrives to take the dishes away, I can begin my inspection of the ship and hopefully find the answer to opening this enigmatic map. Unfortunately, that includes finding a certain candid astrophysicist.

* * *

With each passing hour, this day grows more and more frustrating.

Mr Hawkins decided to shirk his duties, even after I reprimanded his lateness this morning. After twenty minutes of sitting in my stateroom waiting for Mr Hawkins to take the empty dishes away, I left to find him sat slouched in the galley with Mr Silver's pet levitating around him and his head in his hands.

"Mr Hawkins?"

At the sound of my voice, the boy jumped from seat. He paled at the sight of me, but his surprise was short–lived. His usual scowl quickly returned to his face.

"I warned you this morning about your tardiness, Mr Hawkins." I said in an acidic tone. I glared at the boy as he stood stooped in his over-sized dark jacket. "And yet you continue to shun your work."

"Sorry." The boy replied churlishly.

I scrunched my nose in disgust. "Do not talk to me in such a tone, boy. Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy are currently scrubbing the bowels of the heads as we speak. Maybe joining them will cool you temperament?" I growled.

The cabin boy took a shallow breath. "Sorry, _ma'am_."

"Return to your duties, Mr Hawkins." I ordered. "One more infraction and you can expect a severe punishment."

"Yes ma'am."

It seems everyone from the financier to the cabin boy is intent on riling me up. If it weren't for Arrow, I am not sure what I would do. Quit at the nearest way-station perhaps and dump their sorry behinds on the closest dock. The thought of this made me smile slightly. Imagine Doctor Doppler's reaction to that.

Speaking of whom, I failed to find Doctor Doppler throughout my whole inspection. He was not on deck when I inspected the ropes, nor was he in the galley when I reprimanded Mr Hawkins. My inspection took me down into the depths of the ship, through the corridors of machinery and pipelines that run through its bowels. I could find hide nor hair of our financier. Eventually, as I headed back to the stern of the ship, I even poked my head into the wardroom despite it being an officer's domain. Surprisingly, he wasn't there either.

"Only one place left then." I muttered to myself as I started towards the guest cabin, where Doctor Doppler had taken one up as the voyage's financier.

* * *

The officer's and guest cabins are positioned directly beneath my own stateroom and just above the thrusters. While slightly noisier, Arrow had said the rooms vibrate slightly from the power of the thrusters. Even as I stood outside of the door to Doctor Doppler's cabin, I could feel the floorboards beneath my feet shudder from the stress of the thrusters. They were working overtime today, trying their best to fight the unsettled pace we were currently ploughing our way through. Still, the vibration of the ship is a homely feeling; after many years of spacing, a dead ship feels rather disturbing. So long as her thrusters are in motion, the ship is moving ahead. So long as the ship is moving ahead, we should not fall behind schedule. Despite this, I am grateful that my own sleeping quarters are situated above my stateroom and therefore, further away from the noise of the thrusters. Most of our financiers and hired officers often complain of sleepless nights as they adjust to the constant rocking of the ship and the noise during the night.

As I stood outside of the Doctor's cabin door, I wondered if that was why I hadn't seen our hapless financier all day. Maybe he was catching up on some lost hours of slumber.

How delicious it would be to wake him up.

I rapped my knuckles on the door sharply. "Doctor!" I called through the solid wood. "Are you in there?"

My sharp ears listened intensely. Despite the humming of the thrusters, I heard no stirring, no noise, nothing. Only silence. Odd – even if he was asleep, my knocking should have been loud enough to wake him up. If he was not on deck nor in the wardroom, where on this blasted ship could he be?

"Doctor?" I tried again but with no avail. I sighed impatiently. "If you are in there, it would be better for you to answer rather than ignore me! One last time, Doctor, are you in there?"

The Doctor's cabin remained silent.

Still suspicious, I left. I could not hang around all day trying to find our missing financier; I have other duties to complete, of course. Despite this, I've spent the remainder of my evening pondering over where Doctor Doppler could be hiding – or maybe he actively ignored me earlier. I have checked with the watchmen from time to time if they had seen the Doctor but none of them had seen him on deck (although, I wonder if some of them can even see further than their noses).

I just hope he has not taken a trip overboard.

* * *

Suppertime has come and passed, yet still no sight of Doctor Doppler.

Evening had settled outside. Arrow joined me once again in my stateroom and today, Mr Hawkins had brought us a Bonzabeast Pie to share (made from the leftover scrapings from yesterday's stew no doubt) and was cutting it into slices. Arrow was piling his plate with hot greens from a serving bowl, talking about how Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy completed cleaning the ship's heads to his satisfaction and how hopefully that will teach them to take their duties seriously in the future. However, I was only half listening and I had not touched my food. I sat with my fingers steepled together as I eyed the empty chair set for the Doctor, my thoughts fixed on wondering where our missing financier could be.

I glanced at our cabin boy out of the corner of my eye and an idea struck me. "Mr Hawkins?"

"Yes…ma'am?"

At least he's starting to learn, albeit rather slowly. "Have you seen Doctor Doppler today?" I asked, folding my hands in my lap. If he has sought food, then maybe has taken a trip to the galley today.

Mr Hawkins placed an ample slice onto Arrow's plate, gravy pooling around the vegetables. He seemed a little green around the edges of his face as he scowled at the pie. His frown deepened at my question. "No, ma'am."

"Not even at lunch?" I raised an eyebrow.

Again, the boy shook his head. "No, not since breakfast. I don't think he's eaten since then. Sorry, ma'am."

"No matter. Thank you, Mr Hawkins. That will be all." With that, our cabin boy retreated with his serving trays back to the galley. Once the door was shut behind him, I sighed. "I will have to go check his cabin again," I said as I rose from my chair. "This is ridiculous."

"Ma'am, I see no reason to be worried." Arrow stated, already tucking into his supper. "I'm sure the Doctor is perfectly fine."

"Even if he is, he cannot skip another meal. Something must be wrong if he is not eating. Doctor Doppler does not strike me as the kind of man who would normally miss his meals."

"Even so, ma'am, let me go and check his cabin." Arrow put down his cutlery and rose as well. I looked at him curiously. "I think he will be more…open with me, ma'am, rather than with you."

"Do you think he is purposely avoiding me?"

"To be honest ma'am, I do not believe he would be eager to see you. Especially after the arguments between the two of you. Maybe the Doctor has decided it is best for him to stay out of your way rather than provoke you with his presence."

I paused at this logic, initially prepared to challenge Arrow's accusation that I had frightened away our financier from the dinner table, but I conceded after a brief moment of thought. "Very well, Arrow. Tell the Doctor that I _order_ him to join us for supper – but for his benefit. I won't have anyone on this ship putting their health at risk by skipping meals."

Mr Arrow retrieved his hat and left my stateroom. A horrible feeling niggled away at my gut. I have never gotten along well with civilians aboard my ship, having little patience for their complaints that the food was too poor a standard or their rooms too small for their liking. Nevertheless, I have never had a contractor hide below decks from me. Could it be that the Doctor truly feels that he must hide away from me? I understand that we have had our differences and got off on the wrong foot, so to speak, but surely that is not enough to feel as though he cannot venture from his cabin, not even for meals?

I dished out some greens onto my plate as I waited. After a moment's thought, I left some at the bottom of the serving bowl in case the Doctor did join us.

I need not bother, for Arrow returned alone. "I believe he is asleep, ma'am." He answered my questioning look. "I heard snoring from his cabin."

"So, he's done nothing but sleep all day?" I growled.

How dare he lounge in bed while everyone else on this ship pulled their own weight? Well, that will change tomorrow once I have him open the map for me. I will have to give him some work to do rather than allow him to laze all day in his bed, but I will have to ponder over what kind. Forcing him to swab the deck like a cabin boy sounds like a phenomenal idea.

For now, I will just have to reprimand his laziness during tonight's watch.

That is if he made an appearance.

* * *

Doctor Doppler finally emerged from his cabin just in time our watch. I stood waiting for him by the helm, overseeing the various digital screens with charts and devices. I decided to keep close to the helm in case the disturbed winds of space rocked us off course and I had to jump in to correct our course. Further down on the forecastle, Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors stood together as they were on continuous watch throughout the night. I was just checking our co-ordinates on a small digital map when my ears perked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, muffled by his scuffed shoes. I pursed my lips together, ready to give Doctor Doppler a sound verbal-thrashing for his laziness.

"Well, Doctor," I spoke in a mocking tone, keeping my eyes fixed on the controls. "I hope you are well rested after lounging in your cabin all day-"

I stopped once I saw his face. Despite presumably sleeping all day, the Doctor looked as if he had not slept in weeks. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was pale. He leaned heavily on the handrail of the bridge, gripping it like a piece of debris in a storm. He was swallowing heavily, judging from the way his Adam's apple bounced up and down his throat, and took in deep, shallow breaths. He almost looked frail, clinging to the handrail and shivering.

"Ah." I said softly. The man has space-sickness, and a rather bad case of it as well. He looked positively awful.

That would explain it all – his lack of appetite, hiding in his cabin all day, catching up on lost sleep. Ever since this morning, we have hit rough patches of space that has thrown the ship into a constant rocking. Even if the Doctor is not usually affected by the motion of the ship, today's rough spacing would definitely turn his stomach.

Suddenly, I felt a little guilty. I folded my hands behind my back and gave him a sympathetic look. I can hardly blame the man for remaining in his cabin all day if he is as ill as he appears. "So this is why you have not left your cabin today?"

Doctor Doppler managed a nod before looking away, clearly fatigued. I think that he was also a little embarrassed at me seeing him in such a state but I try not to judge when it comes to space-sickness. It can affect even the most seasoned and brilliant of spacers. Why, even Arrow and I have been affected in the past albeit after a few days of constant rough motion in the most thunderous of storms. It's not something to hold against any spacer, yet alone a landlubber who has probably never ventured this long into space.

I considered sending him back below decks but maybe the fresh air could help settle his stomach. It was worth keeping him here just for a brief spell. Sometimes it could make a world of a difference. "Try to fix your eyes on the horizon." I spoke quietly. "It should help."

It seems as though the Doctor's spacesickness had not only mellowed my attitude towards him. Unlike his mistake at the launch, Doctor Doppler actually took my advice this time. I saw him lift his eyes and fix it on a certain point. "T-thank you." He eventually said, his voice was as shaky as his frame.

"No need to thank me, Doctor." I said softly. "I hear it helps."

A silence fell, and I paced around the bridge for a few moments, my mind half on watching the skies for any tell-tale signs of ships or hazards, the other half on the unsteady figure leaning heavily against the handrail of the bridge.

After a long wait, I cleared my throat and approached the Doctor's side cautiously. "How are faring, Doctor?"

He looked puzzled at my inquest into his health. He blinked a few times and looked at my cautiously, almost as though he was expecting this to be some kind of jest or trick. "A little better," He replied in a small voice. "I think…your advice is working. I'm keeping my eyes set on that star, over there!" He pointed to a bright star in the distance. "That's Beta Hyi. The brightest star in the Hydrus constellation."

I looked at him curiously, wondering why he would choose to share this information with me. Of course, I was already aware of the stars we were passing from navigating our course this morning. I had to consult the Shipping Forecast in case of any developing issues that could affect our voyage - even a high solar flare has its affects like water shortages or dangerously high levels of radiation. But what surprised me was that the Doctor instantly knew what the star was called and what constellation it was a part of, despite not consulting any maps to my knowledge.

He caught my look and blushed. "I – uh – I've often studied it from my telescope at home."

Before I could comment, the deck beneath our feet rolled and the Doctor shuddered. Despite our previous grievances, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the man. Space-sickness is not pleasant and Doctor Doppler was evidently suffering terribly. I watched him grip the handrail so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Did you bring any Etherium sickness medication with you on board, Doctor?"

"No," He shook his head, fixing his gaze on Beta Hyi again. "Sarah told us to pack some, but Jim insisted we wouldn't ne –_ uh_ – need it."

He fought down a heave and turned away. I do not have the faintest idea who this 'Sarah' is but by 'Jim' I assumed he was referring to Mr Hawkins. I thought back to Mr Hawkins' actions through the day and wondered if he was feeling the same effects of the ship as the Doctor was. Judging by his paleness and sickly look throughout the day, I suppose he must be suffering the same - although it may be difficult to tell, seeing as the boy had a face like thunder on him for most of yesterday. Although, maybe not as violently as his chaperone.

"I'll be right back, Doctor." I said and moved to my cabin. From my private bathroom, I took a glass bottle of pills from my toiletries cabinet and shook it. The white pills rattled inside. Satisfied, I pocketed it and returned to find the Doctor retching over the gunwale of the ship (and thankfully, not onto the deck). From further down the ship, I heard Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors giggling cruelly to themselves.

The Doctor composed himself as I approached, blushing furiously at his embarrassment. I pretended not to have noticed to avoid addressing it. "Here, Doctor," I said holding out the bottle of pills. "Take these. I always keep a bottle handy just in case."

Doctor Doppler looked floored at my gesture, momentarily forgetting his sickness. "Are those…"

"Etherium sickness tablets." I finished as I handed the bottle to him. His hand was shaking. "Take one every six to eight hours. You should find them rather effective."

"Th-thank you." He avoided my eyes and swallowed one dry.

"You're welcome, Doctor." I replied.

Another awkward silence fell as Doctor Doppler pocketed the bottle in his red coat. Inwardly, I realised that this must have been the most we have talked without trading verbal blows or growing angry with one another. Strange how an illness can change one's behaviour, but I must admit that I did feel sorry for the man and as the commanding officer of this voyage, I do have a level of care to provide to my crew and passengers – Doctor Doppler included. I turned my eyes out to Beta Hyi but carefully watched him from my peripheral vision and racked my brain for an idea to calm his space-sickness further. I decided that as he is an astronomer, maybe conversing about stars would help take his mind away from his nausea.

Therefore, I cleared my throat. "So, Doctor, as you were saying you've studied the Hydrus constellation from your telescope on Montressor, do any of those stars pose as a potential threat to us?"

He looked a little baffled that I would pursue such a conversation, but he did not contest. Instead, he straightened his spectacles and began. "Well," He started, looking back out at the stars we were sailing past. "There's one star in particular, Gamma Hydri, that's a red giant and I often take readings of its magnitude and mass and such. If some of its layers may be blown away by solar winds and could become a risk to any ships trying to visit the exoplanets in the system. Of course, they're too far away to really affect us, and it will be years before the Gamma Hydri comes to close to properly going supernova, but someone has to keep an eye in case a black hole develops close to four inhabited planets."

"Quite right, I've made trips to such planets myself. According to the reports I've read from the Shipping Forecast, the red giant shouldn't be much of an issue for the next few hundred years."

"Yes - that is unless my calculations are wrong, but I doubt it. Even so, I'm sure it won't be going supernova in our lifetimes. If I am wrong, whoever takes up my position after I'm gone will surely correct it."

My ears perked up at this. "Wait – _your _calculations?" I raised my eyebrows and stared at him. "You mean that _you _are the one who writes the reports for Crescentia?"

The Doctor blushed. "Yes – I mean, there's some smaller branches of the Astronomy and Meteorology Office on the spaceport but I am the only one with a powerful enough telescope on Monstressor's surface. There's only a few towns and a single city on Montressor. I mean – it's not much of a tourist destination, and most of the people who live there are labourers and miners. There's a few other academics at the University but there's not much of a society of scientists I'm afraid. In a strange way, I suppose that's a good thing – no competition for my job, anyway! But I get a better view of space thanks to the planet's rotation, so I cover pretty much all of the main routes in and out of Crescentia. The offices on the spaceport itself are better at deciphering what is more of an issue for ships and such. I just tell them if there's storms or dust clouds or any erratic astral behaviour, then they put out the warnings."

So here stood the man who had written the reports that were basically a lifeline to Arrow and I. There have been more moments than I can count where the Shipping Forecast have been essential to our success. How many times have we changed our course to avoid some rather nasty storms, or delayed our departure until the worst of the weather has passed? It's common knowledge that spacers are obsessed with the weather and for good reason – in some cases, a weather report can be the difference between success and failure, between life and death.

I couldn't help but smile a little at this surprise. "So, you're a weatherman?"

Even in his weakened state, Doctor Doppler still found a way to be insulted. He pushed out his chest and tried to look serious, which was rather hard for him to do with a face shining with a thin layer of sweat. "I am a scientist! I still make reports to the scientific community and I have had many articles published in astronomical journals! I-I have theories!"

It was difficult to restrain a laugh. I waved my hand at him. "Calm down, Doctor, I was only jesting. I just wanted to say that your reports are incredibly useful to spacers like me up and down this sector of space. Many times, I have consulted them for advice."

Doctor Doppler blinked in shock. "Y-you have?"

"Of course," I nodded. "Even before we set out yesterday, I was reading the reports to make sure we would not run into any nasty surprises."

"Oh…I…never made that connection."

"Neither had I." I admitted. Maybe Doctor Doppler could prove himself useful to us on this voyage after all but, alas, we do not have a powerful telescope like he uses for his work aboard this ship. I doubt there is much he can spot with the naked eye.

We stood in silence for a while, watching the Hydrus constellation pass in the distance. I kept switching my attention from watching space, to keeping an eye on Doctor Doppler's well-being. The ship continued to roll under our feet with the unsettled winds, but Doctor Doppler already seemed better than he was moments ago. Some colour was starting to return to his face but the circles under his eyes were persistent. Even if the nausea in his stomach had passed, he still must have been very fatigued - and standing on the deck for half the night would not further amend his condition.

"Doctor, why don't you return to your cabin and rest for the night." I said. "You look awfully tired."

"B-but – won't you need me for help?"

I shook my head and gestured a hand to the forecastle. "Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy are forrard. If there is any issue, I have them to rouse the crew. In your state, you should be resting."

Doctor Doppler shuffled from foot to foot in uncertainty. "A-are you sure?"

"Yes Doctor. Go to bed." I reassured him. "But I do need you to report to me tomorrow morning, around nine hundred hours."

"Nine hundred?"

"Nine o'clock, Doctor. That is when I usually begin my ship keeping duties."

"Err- may I ask what for?"

My eyes flickered beyond his shoulder to the figures of Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy, who were standing about on the forecastle. One was leaning against the forward mast and chatting animatedly to the other. Even if it appeared that they were not listening to our conversation, I could not risk it.

"I need your help with some navigating. I believe that my maps may be rather out of date, but you should be familiar with the area from your research."

"But why don't y-_oh_." Doctor Doppler could not be more obvious even if he tried. Blushing, he quickly corrected himself and affirmed that he would be in my stateroom tomorrow morning.

I rolled my eyes and sighed at his hopelessness. "Very well, Doctor. I shall see you tomorrow morning."

Doctor Doppler bid me goodnight and shakily descended down below decks. I watched him go before taking my spot back at the helm, complementing my surprise that after all these years of reading the weather reports from Crescentia, I never imagined meeting someone who actually wrote them. Before every voyage in and out of Crescentia, the Shipping Forecast from the Astronomy and Meteorology Office station have provided a lot of valuable data and information to me. Their work is essential to every ship passing the area. Without them, ships could be lost far more often than they already are. That's precisely why the Astromet Office was set up, at least according to my Interstellar Academy professors. Observatories up and down the Empire were commissioned to give frequent weather reports to the Office stations at every major port planet-side or otherwise. The Shipping Forecasts were so successful that the Royal Navy has its own branch of services run by the Astromet Office. I remember my few brief days as a Lieutenant working at Crescentia's Naval base before I was assigned to a ship, constantly running back and forth from the Office to base with pages of readings of storms, solar flares and other cosmic phenomena. I wonder if I had once couriered any of Doctor Doppler's reports?

Funny how small the galaxy can be sometimes.

Nevertheless, I pushed Doctor Doppler from my mind and returned to keeping watch. From my position at the bridge, I could still see Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy enjoying their conversation. Neither had their eyes on their surroundings and were clearly not paying attention to keeping their watch. To test this, I decided to make my way over to them and see how close I got until they realised my presence. It was not until I was looming over them when Mr Pigors have a squeak of surprise.

"Mr Greedy! Mr Pigors!" I growled.

Mr Greedy is an Ellenvoodic man with large cattle-like horns and suction-cup hands and feet, who nearly scowls as much as our cabin boy does. From what I have observed of him, he is almost always quiet and withdrawn unless around his fellow crew-mates. Mr Pigors, on the other hand, is almost the complete opposite. He is melodramatic and scuttles around the ship with a grin of stupidity on his face, a long blue tongue constantly dangling and drooling onto the decking.

"If you two are quite _done _with your folly, I want one of you in the crow's nest immediately. Mr Greedy – climb up the shrouds this instant and stay there for the remainder of your watch." My lip curled in disgust as I glared down on the two hands. Mr Greedy soon skulked up the shrouds of the mainmast and the two were separated.

For the rest of the watch, Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors completed their duties to my satisfaction and my watch was completed without any disturbances. The winds were increasingly rough, however, and the ship bucked like an untamed stallion. I stayed with the helm and kept us on course until midnight when my watch was over. Mr Pigors was sent below to the crew's quarters to rouse Mr Turnbuckle, our helmsman, at my request. With the winds so strong I ordered him to stay with the helm until Mr Arrow relieves him in the morning, as well as Mr Pigors and Mr Greedy who will finish their watch-on-watch. Hopefully, they will be standing to attention rather than playing games.

With one last check that our co-ordinates were correct and that we were on course, I have turned in for the night. I have a few hours to rest before breakfast and my meeting with Doctor Doppler. Hopefully by this time tomorrow, I will have a much clearer idea of our course and I will finally see this map for myself – and see if it is genuine or a fake.


	4. The Map Is Opened

Date: 004.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship Legacy, the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, approaching the Magellan Current.

We are predicted to join the Magellan Current today. Even before my status report from the bridge, I could feel the ship tossing wildly under my feet as I rose from my bed and dressed this morning. By my calculations, we should be within sight of the current by lunchtime. Satisfied with this, I retrieved my hat and headed out onto the bridge. Arrow was already waiting for me at the helm. I smiled slightly up at him and noticed the very weary look on his face.

"Could not sleep, Arrow?" I jested.

"A very rocky night, ma'am." He replied, grimacing. "I have never enjoyed joining a current."

The wind was so strong, I had to lift a hand to hold my hat onto my head. Arrow had taken his off and was holding it clasped in his hands behind his back. I looked up at him and gave him a sympathetic look. "Not to worry, Mr Arrow, this afternoon we should be sailing smoothly through the Magellan Current. Hopefully you shall have a far more peaceful night tonight."

"I hope so too, ma'am."

I checked our co-ordinates on the digital maps and I was satisfied we were on course. I did adjust the trim slightly – Arrow is many things but a helmsman and a navigator is not one of them, but thankfully all he needed to do was linger close to the wheel and keep a sharp eye on our digital maps. Mr Turnbuckle had done a rather bang-up job with keeping us on track as well. Compared to the rest of the crew, Mr Turnbuckle is one of the few that seemed to meet my standards of an acceptable spacer – he completes his duties with no complaints and is courteous enough with his salutes. As far as this crew goes, he is a stand-out spacer for doing the bare minimum.

"How was your watch last night, ma'am?" Mr Arrow enquired as we stood together on the bridge.

"Very well, as a matter of fact." I muttered. I was taking the opportunity to sweep the horizon, checking for any ships that may be approaching from the current and heading to Crescentia. "Doctor Doppler made an appearance. He is severely space sick."

Mr Arrow tutted. "Poor man, space sickness is a terrible thing."

"Indeed." I nodded. "I sent him back to his cabin with some medication. He did try his best to stand watch, however, but could barely stand still with all his shivering and shaking. I tried to distract him with some conversation, but it was no good. He was far too ill. However, I did learn something rather inter – ah, Mr Silver!"

Emerging from the galley was our cook, carrying my breakfast and morning coffee on a silver tray. The cyborg looked up at the helm as I shouted down and stopped his approach to my cabin. "Bless'd morning to ye, Cap'n." He spoke with his strong accent. "Forgive me fer not bowing, ma'am. I got me hands a bit preoccupied."

His toady behaviour still has not ceased since our launch, and I inwardly rolled my eyes at his lack of tact. "Hmm, no matter, but I wish to take my coffee here. My breakfast can wait for me in my cabin." I ordered. Without hesitation, Mr Silver approached me on the bridge, and I took my coffee in my hands. It was hot and welcome in the cold breeze. "Actually, Mr Silver, where is Mr Hawkins? It is part of his duties as cabin boy to bring my breakfast, is it not? Is he indisposed?"

"Aye, Cap'n. The lad's got space sickness. Been up wit' it all night."

I have a knowing nod. "Ah…it seems Doctor Doppler is not alone in his suffering." I murmured.

"Indeed, ma'am." Arrow replied.

"I'm afraid I have given the Doctor my supply of Etherium sickness medication. Do you have any to spare, Mr Arrow?"

"I am sure there is a spare bottle stocked in the wardroom, ma'am. I will bring it to the galley after breakfast, Mr Silver."

Mr Silver nodded and began to retreat to my cabin. "Thank you, Mr Arrow, ser. Cap'n ma'am."

I watched him go from the corner of my eye. As he slipped through the door to my stateroom, I whispered closely to Mr Arrow to follow him, under the pretence of retrieving my spyglass from my desk. I do not trust this crew enough for them to be left alone around my cabin. "Make sure he does not go rifling through my possessions."

Mr Arrow touched his hat and followed. Within seconds, Mr Silver emerged and returned down into the galley. Mr Arrow followed, my spyglass in his grasp. "Nothing suspicious, ma'am." He muttered loud enough for only me to hear as he handed me my glass.

"Thank you, Mr Arrow." Balancing my coffee on the handrail of the bridge, I snapped open my spyglass and checked the horizon. Still, no ships spotted since our launch nor was the current in sight just yet. Satisfied, I shut my glass back up, attached it to my belt, and returned to drinking my coffee.

"You were saying about your conversation with Doctor Doppler last night, ma'am?"

"Ah yes," I continued, lowering my cup. "Did you know he writes for the Shipping Forecast?"

"The Shipping Forecast?" Mr Arrow raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, he said that Astromet Office commissions him to write reports for the area. I do not recall reading about it in his file, however. Only that he has a few published papers and regularly gives lectures on astrophysics to the University of Montressor. Yet…who would have thought we would ever meet the man who writes our very weather reports?"

Mr Arrow shook his head. "I do not think I ever have, ma'am."

I raised my cup to my lips and sipped my coffee. "Also, he did the strangest thing. He started to talk about a passing star yet as far as I know, he had not any access to maps or charts and such. He was able to name it and identify its constellation by sight. Such a strange ability, don't you think?"

"A strange ability indeed, ma'am. How precisely did he do it?"

"He claimed it was because he had studied the star well from his telescope on Montressor. Still, it took me by surprise." I said as I finished my coffee. "I must admit, I have never met a man who was able to name a star on sight."

Mr Arrow raised an eyebrow. "It almost sounds like you are impressed by him ma'am."

"It does not excuse his earlier inanity with hiring this sorry band of ragamuffins, nor his attitude towards me." I said sharply. My ears flattened against my head. "However, I cannot deny it's a rather…unique skill."

"Aye, ma'am." Mr Arrow replied rather diplomatically. "Speaking of the good Doctor, ma'am, it seems we have not had chance to share a meal with our luckless financier yet?"

My stomach sunk a little at the thought. As an act of good service and social protocol, Arrow and I try to invite our financiers to a few meals during each voyage. It makes for a change, and discourages any growing boredom but I mostly despise these meals. Our financiers are usually rather uninteresting, or pretentious. Landlubbers carry a level of ineptitude that makes them stick out like a sore thumb on a ship such as mine and I have always struggled to contain my contempt for them. Traits I value - diligence, bravery, loyalty - are often lacking in businessmen and politicians. Although we have had a few financiers who were rather interesting, such as a few guests who had done a fair bit of spacing and had some exciting tales to share, I still dread the inevitable first supper listening to the boring life-tales of someone who never left planet-side - repetitive stories of their childhood, the one time they shook hands with the deputy mayor of Cariddigen (a small town on Daramor or someplace similar to, at least according to one incredibly boring diplomat we once escorted), their greatest achievement of hunting down a rare Thruskan Bull in the wild, et cetera.

I doubt Doctor Doppler has any interesting anecdotes to share...although it would be a way to ask him a bit more about that fascinating skill he has of identifying certain stars. However, last night was the very first conversation between us that did not end in raised voices and insults. How would we survive a full dinner together, even if Arrow is there to diffuse any rising tempers?

Still, my mother always ingrained into me the conducts of socialising. Every time we moved to a new area, all the surrounding families would instantly be invited around for tea, even if I very rarely interacted with our new neighbours. But my mother would turn in her grave if I neglected her teachings.

It will have to happen eventually, but maybe it would be worth waiting to see if Doctor Doppler and I could maintain this ceasefire of ours; the last thing I would want to do after another argument with the man would be forced into a polite dinner, even if Arrow would be there to ensure things ran smoothly.

"I shall invite him tomorrow."

Our conversation finished, I asked Mr Arrow to my cabin for a quick breakfast after his watch ended and before I did my inspection of the ship. He accept and I retreated to my stateroom for the next hour. Once my inspection is complete, I should expect Doctor Doppler to report to my cabin. Then, finally, I can open that blasted map and see its contents in full – and hopefully, not end up in another battle of words with the man again.

* * *

Doctor Doppler reported to my stateroom nearly thirty minutes late. He knocked rather gingerly before entering, sheepishly peering at me over his round spectacles. He saw sat behind my desk, quietly seething in anger with my fingers steepled and elbows resting on the table.

"You are late, Doctor." I said matter-of-factly.

The Canid shuffled awkwardly, eyeing me with caution before approaching. "My apologies, Captain. I-uh…slept through my alarm." He spoke quietly.

My anger expelled with a sigh. I pursed my lips tightly and drummed my fingers on the surface of my desk. "I will forgive you this one time, Doctor, in regard to your illness these past twenty-four hours. However, I will warn you that I do not excuse tardiness on this ship. I have a strict routine to abide to and I expect you to honour that. Next time I ask you to attend to my cabin, you will arrive on time."

At this, the Doctor scowled and fidgeted. It seems I had ruffled his proverbial feathers again – I swear this man could take offense to any little comment. "Captain," He started. "I didn't mean to be tardy – I – I was very sick ye-"

"Yes, Doctor, I am aware." I cut him off sharply and began to rearrange some papers on my desk in order to avoid his eyes. So much for trying to keep things civil. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Doctor Doppler blushed. "Much better, thank you. I – uh – just wanted to say thank you again…for the sickness medicine you gave me yesterday." He moved to retrieve the bottle of pills from his pocket and give them to me. "I don't know if you want them back…"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Keep them, Doctor, you have a far greater need for them than I do. Although, we are scheduled to be joining the Magellan Current today so hopefully, you won't be needing them for much longer."

He pocketed the medicine and gave me a small smile. "Thank you…I really do appreciate it-"

"Tish-tosh," I said, cutting him off. "I would do the same for anyone aboard this ship. Speaking of which, it seems Mr Hawkins has also suffered from some space sickness this morning. That is, if Mr Silver is to be believed."

"Oh?" The Doctor tilted his head, blinking slowly. "Maybe I should visit the boy later to check his well-being. His mother did entrust me to be his chaperone."

"He will be fine, Doctor. Mr Arrow is passing some extra medication to him through Mr Silver in the galley this morning. I would much prefer for you to focus on our task at hand."

"Of course!" The Doctor approached my desk and placed a few rolled up parchments of paper before me. "Navigation, was it? You said yesterday that some of your maps are out of date, but luckily, I brought a few from my library! I have quite the collection at home, you know, being an astronomer and such, and I even have access to some of the university's own private collection although they won't allow me to take them home. The librarian is awfully strict about such things but-"

"Actually, Doctor," I smirked at his ramblings and cut him off swiftly before he roped me into an hours polite discussion about his collection of charts. "I'm afraid that was rather a cover-story in case we were overheard on deck. My true reason for our meeting is to open that so-called map you brought to me before the launch."

Doctor Doppler's face fell. Curiously, I wondered why – perhaps he was excited to converse about maps. "Oh." He said in a small voice.

Brushing this aside, I stood and moved to lock my stateroom door to prevent anyone from barging in. "I had tried to open it for ages," I said, breezing past our financier. "But I could not work out how to open the blasted thing. Is there a sequence with the buttons or such?"

As I went about my business retrieving the map from its place in my locked cupboard, Doctor Doppler stood there spluttering and bumbling. "I-uh- actually, I…" He froze as I held out the map to him, the copper sphere clasped in my claws. He met my eyes and bit his lip. "Actually…I don't know how to open it."

"What?"

Was this man joking with me? He had spent a fortune hiring us all and went about proudly announcing he was in possession of a fabled treasure map and the damned fool did not even know how to open the bloody contraption?

Doctor Doppler recoiled at my tart reaction and withered under my furious glare. "You see…Jim is one the who opened it. The boy has always had a knack with machinery and things – he just picked it up and done some kind of quick handiwork and the map just popped open!"

"You mean to tell me that our cabin boy can open this thing and a man of science like yourself cannot?" I sneered.

"Well," He said with a frown. "You couldn't open it either."

"Watch yourself, Doctor." I snapped and slammed my cupboard shut. "You have been on thin ice with your attitude towards me since you stepped aboard this ship."

He seemed to crumble at this and kept his mouth shut, backing away from me as I swooped back to my chair, my coattails sweeping behind me. He had a point – I have no idea how to open the damn thing nor how Mr Hawkins was able to work it out. If Doctor Doppler speaks the truth, the teenager must be some kind of prodigy with engineering. You would not be able to tell by looking at the morbid boy.

"Very well then, Doctor," I said as I sat back down with the map in tow. "Would you be so kind as to fetch Mr Hawkins from the galley from me? I refuse to sail another mile further into this voyage without laying my own eyes on this map."

"Of course, Captain." The Doctor relented.

"And remember, Doctor, not one word about this map beyond this room!" I warned. "Give no indication to Mr Hawkins nor anyone else why I need to see him, is that clear?"

"Yes, Captain." He replied and quickly moved to leave the room. However, he got stuck at the door and kept tugging at it helplessly.

"It's locked, Doctor." I said in a low tone. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door with a click and slipped out onto the deck.

I leaned back in my chair and fumed about our financiers incompetence. This instils no confidence or hope within me for this voyage. The crew certainly lack discipline, our cabin boy is unruly and rebellious, and our land-lubber of a financier cannot even open the very map he has sunk his reputation and funds into. If this map fails to impress me, I will be turning this ship around and returning to Crescentia. For all I know, this could be some prank by Mr Hawkins that Doctor Doppler has completely fallen for. If this is the case, then Mr Hawkins is certainly old enough for a thrashing with a bosun's rod. It is just a question of who will get there first –Arrow or I?

Doctor Doppler returned moments later with our cabin boy. Mr Hawkins was very pale and had bloodshot eyes from his restless night. Even while wearing his over-grown hunting jacket, the boy looked smaller and more withdrawn than ever. He regarded me coldly and shrunk even further into his shell as the two entered my cabin. The Doctor shut the door behind them and catching my pointed look, locked the door as well.

"Mr Hawkins, how are you feeling? Mr Silver told me that you have been suffering from space sickness."

The boy hesitated to answer and shot a glance at the Doctor. Is it really that difficult to imagine that I could care about the wellbeing of my crew? Eventually, the boy answered. "Yes, ma'am."

"Have you received some medication from Mr Arrow?"

"Yeah, he brought it down just after breakfast."

I nodded firmly. "Good. Make sure you take some until you have settled. Once we join the Current this afternoon, you should begin to feel a lot better. Are you able to continue with your duties?"

"Yes ma'am." He answered with no enthusiasm.

"Even better, now, I have a request from you, Mr Hawkins. Doctor Doppler tells me that you are the only one who knows how to open this device?" I held up the map. The boy's eyes peered at myself suspiciously and then over his shoulder again at the Doctor. I bit my tongue from making a comment; this game between the two of these private, unspoken conversations is quickly wearing thin.

"Uh…yeah. I can open it."

"Could you do so then, please?" I said and held the map out to him. The boy took and, with a sharp glance at myself, started to unlock it.

How he exactly opened it, I do not know. He did it somehow through muscle memory and completed the opening sequence so quickly that even my eyes did not catch what he pressed and when. However, I quickly dropped my attention to how Mr Hawkins opened the map because once he had, something else forced my attention. To be exact, many thousands of somethings.

My cabin had come alive with thousands of tiny little green lights, like buzzing fireflies. They all swarmed out from the map and flew like a flurry of snowflakes in a blizzard. Instantly, I gasped and leapt from my chair. My eyes widen as I watched these thousands of lights quickly take certain positions and form a clear image of a three-dimensional map, taking up the whole space of my cabin. A precise model of a dozen different planets, stars and nebulae materialised before my very eyes. My whole cabin glowed a luminous green, illuminated from the pixelated fireflies. Encompassing all this was even some illuminated gridlines, drawn out like quadrants on a globe. I was standing in the middle of a perfect replica of our galaxy. Completely forgetting about Doctor Doppler and Mr Hawkins' presence, I flittered from one floating planet to the next, my jaw slack from surprise.

"Incredible…"

Looking back now, I remember years ago during my education at the Interstellar Academy when one of my professors once proudly predicted that the future was holograms and one day, we would all be charting our courses with the touches of our fingertips on three-dimensional maps. Even today, what attempts there are of hologram maps are awful fidgety and unreliable for their size, and therefore are often pushed aside for traditional two-dimensional charts and diagrams. Yet there I was, standing among replicas of a hundred worlds perfectly scaled and sized. However, my professor was still wrong – it was not in the future where these technological maps reside, but centuries in the past.

Instantly, I knew that this was no con, or a prank a teenager like Mr Hawkins had conducted. This was real.

"How in the galaxy…" I commented as I spun on the spot, watching the planets swirl around me in their natural rotation. "The detail – is that the Magellanic Cloud?"

My eye was drawn to the webbing of aether that is the Magellanic Cloud – two large cosmic dust clouds of nebula within close proximity to the other. Nestled within the webbing, I knew, was a dozen of outposts, waystations and small worlds with arable farmland. Not too far away was the far larger planet of Pelsinor, a beautiful planet I once visited as a child where it is constantly sunset due to the numerous stars the planet circles in the nebula, and its gardens are famous for their various connected ponds filled with the strangest and most exotic of aquatic life. Some of my fondest memories had taken place there.

As soon as I noticed the Cloud, my eye was drawn to another celestial object – then another, and another, and so on. There were so many – planets like Montressor and Ellenvood, abysses Kinabis and Kalyan, nebulae such as the Phantom and the Crow. Some structures were missing – Crescentia was absent and so was other new waystations like Montgomery and Grant. These are some recently inhabited places and Crescentia was only constructed two centuries ago in order to meet the demand in trade for Montressor's thriving mining industry. Their absence makes me question just how old this map is – yet it shows no sign of rusting and shines as though new (clearly someone must have kept good care of it all these hundreds of years). How old must this technology be, yet it vastly outstrips anything our modern society has. All these years I have thought that the Procyons were the most technologically advance race among us and yet this very map proves that idea wrong. Someone had managed to create this navigational wonder and I doubt it was any pirate like Flint.

But if not Procyons or pirates, then who?

"How is this possible?" I asked breathlessly, spinning to the Doctor and Mr Hawkins for answers.

Doctor Doppler was beaming, staring up at the holograms just like I was. The green light was reflecting in his glasses, yet I could clearly see his dark eyes glittering as they observed the ground-breaking technology presented before us. "I don't know." He said simply. He seemed to shake himself of his reverie, adjusted his spectacles and cleared his throat. "Well- I – uh, have several theories but I'm sure we will find more answers when we reach…the place. But for now, I call those lights 'intelligent pixels'. They seem to be very small robots but they're so tiny, it's almost impossible to try and separate one from its formation."

"Intelligent pixels…" I mused, leaning in as close as I could to try and see the mechanical details of one, yet they were so small all they remained was as bright tiny specks of light. "Fascinating…"

"If I may, Captain," The Doctor stepped forward and delicately tapped the holographic model of the Magellanic cloud.

There was a sudden wave and the intelligent pixels began to move – sudden lines formed, attaching certain worlds to others. I soon realised they were shipping routes– there were plenty I had myself travelled upon from planet to planet. Some I did not recognised and assumed they must be old routes that teetered out over the years or moved with their currents if they followed one, but others were missing, such as the Magellan Bridge we are currently on. That dates this map to over a century old at least as the Magellan Bridge was only created around a hundred years ago as a quick short-cut to the Cloud from Montressor.

The hologram was moving us along space. Although my feet were planted firmly to the flooring of my cabin, I felt as if I was being washed away with a tide. Planets and stars few past me and more appeared ahead and soon passed me by. Finally, we were beyond the frontiers of the Empire and into wilderness space. That was when the largest hologram appeared – a planet easily twice the size of astronomical object before, with two planetary ring systems crossing over its surface. Once it loomed above our heads, the other pixels disappeared.

"And that's…"

There she was – large and bright and floating above our heads. Any doubts I had of this map's validity crumbled away. Such technology as this could not be the work of even the most competent conman and as far as I am aware, there is no modern technology that comes even close to the magnitude and advanced complexity of this device.

Suddenly, I realised I was breathless. The sheer amazement I had experienced had brought down my guard and I quickly recomposed myself once I spotted Doctor Doppler peering at me curiously. I looked at him and Mr Hawkins sternly.

"Not a word of this to anyone, gentlemen." I said gravely. "Especially not outside this cabin."

"Of course." The Doctor replied. Mr Hawkins was hesitant but eventually he gave a curt nod of his head as he closed the map and said "Alright."

"Thank you, Mr Hawkins," I said as I stretched out my hand to retrieve the map from his possession. For a brief second, I thought he was not going to hand the map back, but he eventually let it drop from his grasp and into mine. "I will most likely need your help in the future."

"No problem, ma'am." He spoke in a low tone and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket.

"As for navigating," I continued as I moved back to my cupboard. I have returned the map to its hiding place and locked it shut. "I will continue when we reach the Magellanic Cloud. From there we will take a different current but for now, we shall continue on the course I have designed for us."

With the map secure, I ushered both our cabin boy and our financier out of my cabin for me to update this log. Even now, my stomach is rolling with excitement. The map looks incredibly promising and even if we do not find the fabled planet, that map alone is an object of significant finding. The possibility of it being a valid treasure map has just ten folded. In a few months, we could find ourselves in the middle of the greatest discovery in history.

I cannot wait to tell Arrow.

* * *

"You should have seen it, Arrow. It was unlike anything I have ever laid my eyes on."

I was regaling my tale to Arrow during lunch, leaning back in my chair with a cup of tea and a wildfire raging in my chest. Seeing the map opened to its full extent had ignited an excitement in me that I have not felt since my days in the Navy. I have been starved of a promising adventure for years since my retirement and I have not had the opportunity for such a voyage in all my years as an independent.

Arrow was smirking while raising his own cup to tea to his mouth. "It must have been some sight, Captain, to have stirred you this much."

"It has." I admitted, thinking back to the sight of that holographic planet hovering above my head in a glow of green light. "I must admit it Arrow, it was incredible. Doctor Doppler was not lying when he claimed it was 'technology like no other'."

We were sat in the officer's wardroom for a change and enjoying a lunch of fresh fruit pieces and some tea. Sometime when he is the only officer on board, Arrow often makes invitations for me to the wardroom and we alternate our meals together between here and my cabin. Sometimes, we take our meals apart for the sake of some privacy to recharge our own proverbial batteries and relax in some quiet without polite conversation. They are rare times, but they do occur, only if I am feeling particularly stressed or tired (though I will never admit it). However, sometimes, my presence can be off-putting to our financiers or any other speciality officers on board. If our crew is joined by other officers and specialists who use the wardroom, I never enter the area out of respect for the unspoken rule about commanding officers and wardrooms. Luckily on this voyage, Doctor Doppler seems to prefer the company of his own cabin.

The revelation of the map had made its mark on me and even as I ate my lunch, I could not put away the dazzling sight of it. I was still pondering over my questions – how old was this technology? Who created it? How is it that some of the shipping lanes are included but others are not?

"Arrow," I began. "Do you know when the Magellan Bridge was created? As a shipping route?"

"Around the same time the Magellan Current gained enough strength to officially be classified as a current, ma'am. I believe I was spacing with your…grandfather at the time it opened, and we took the route up to Crescentia. It was awfully convenient ma'am, with Montressor thriving and shipping out loads of ore and metals, and Crescentia growing in popularity as a spaceport. The sector's Admiralty House moved there, the Interstellar Academy latched onto the current…without it, I think we would still be based elsewhere. But as for a date when it opened…I believe it was… ninety years ago."

"How would you get to the Cloud from Crescentia before then?"

"We would have to sail towards Pelsinor on the Strait of Pelanar, and though the Magellan Strait. The Bridge shaved off a few good weeks of clear spacing when she opened. A godsend for traders and awfully handy for fleets to cut through in emergencies."

"When were they first opened? The Straits?"

"Long before I was spacing, ma'am. One of your great-grandfather's ships regularly patrolled that region during some unsettling times. Interplanetary wars within the Cloud, and many tried to flee the violence through those routes. At one point, I believe Pelsinor tried to blockade the route and demand the refugees pay fees for passage to safety. Pirates were roaming as well to try and exploit anyone leaving in make-shift rafts, although I do not believe they had much to steal."

I tutted. "Makes you form a rather depressing outlook on the galaxy, does it not?"

"Yes ma'am, although I remember that there were many trying to stop these acts – the Royal Navy, there were protests on Pelsinor and a few ministers within Parliament were campaigning for aid." Arrow sipped his tea. "Your great-grandfather was part of a taskforce sweeping up those escaping the fray and taking them safely to Pelsinor. I believe it was then when he met your great-grandmother."

"My grandfather told me that story many times. One of the few he could remember in full towards the end – that and the one about how he met my grandmother." I muttered, remembering all the evenings I spent sat in front of the parlour fire with my grandfather, him regaling in many wild tales and I believing every word. His mind was failing at that point and my father warned me to take his stories with a pinch of salt – he could remember parts, no doubt, but he would always mix up names and people and places. I only began to believe this when he claimed to be fighting side-by-side with dual-sword-wielding space whale.

"What about waystation Grant and Montgomery? Did you ever visit those with my great-grandfather?"

"No ma'am, they were only built in the last century. If I many, Captain…why so interested in the historical geography of our galaxy?"

"That device." I replied in a hushed voice. "Some parts of it were missing – certain routes like the Bridge and places like Crescentia. I believe they could be key to dating it's creation…or the last time it was in use."

"Flint was in operation for a good few years ma'am. Around two decades, if I'm not mistaken but there were so many tales and so flung far across the galaxy that it was difficult to tell which ones the real sightings were, and ones that was just suspicious spacers and those lying through their teeth. We would hear a tale about Flint raiding Procyon ships and then the next week it would be Arcturian traders on the other side of the galaxy. If Crescentia is not on that map, ma'am, then it must be over two hundred years old."

"But the technology must be far older than just a century or two. It is far too advanced to be a creation of our society – even Procyons would not be able to create something like it. How could someone make a map thousands of years old and yet it is updated until the last century? Flint couldn't be its creator."

"Maybe he found it?"

"But why would someone create a map centuries ago to a planet that is not inhabited. How could Flint find an empty planet that just so happens to have a map already created to its very destination. What was so special about it that it had a centuries old map?"

"Maybe this planet was inhabited centuries ago and had long been abandoned. When we get there, maybe we will find old structures and monuments." Mr Arrow mused as we finished our lunch. "Like Atlantis."

This caused me to chuckle. "Well, if it transpires that one fabled planet is real, then why the hell not another!"

"Maybe Doctor Doppler will hire us again to find that one, ma'am."

"I decidedly hope not." I replied, drumming my fingers against the porcelain of my teacup. "But then why would the planet be abandoned?"

"Planets are abandoned for all sorts of reasons – climate changes, solar radiation, impending meteor impact…once, your father and I had to help evacuate a colony that was slowly drifting into a black hole and was being ripped apart by its gravity."

"Then it could be that the planet no longer exists, or it is possible we will not be able to land, and the treasure is already lost."

"Not always, ma'am. They say that Montressor could one day be abandoned when the mines inevitably run dry and the steelworks move on. From what I hear, people are quickly leaving the planet for better prospects elsewhere. The only thing that could be supporting it is the spaceport. Even then, another busier spaceport could open instead, and Crescentia could soon dwindle away with its nearest planet."

"But why create a map?"

Arrow sighed and rolled his eyes. "Captain, please, relax. I'm sure that any questions we have will be answered when we reach the planet."

I was boring him, it was easy to tell, but I had already sunk my teeth into these mysteries, and I had to ponder on these questions until I had come to a logical answer – but even then, it may be an incorrect one. One thing is sure – I will not sleep tonight, for riddles about maps and charts and stars and planets will be swirling around my head like a spiralling galaxy.

There is nothing I hate more than unanswered questions.

* * *

"Take us in steady, Mr Turnbuckle."

The afternoon had settled in and the Magellan Current was right before us – a bright blue channel of strong, smooth winds and flowing Etherium aether shimmering in the sunlight. The ship was rocking furiously now, fighting the disturbed air surrounding the current. Arrow and I had abandoned our hats within my cabin, and both of us stood close to the helm – I directing our helmsman, him commanding the riggers as they climbed aloft, ready to change tack and sail at a moment's notice. Even our financier made an appearance, grasping a telescope and excitedly darting up and down the deck while taking observations – an issue that made me inwardly sigh, as I did not want to divert my attention from joining the current, but I did not trust Doctor Doppler to be able to keep his both his feet on the decking with these lurches. Luckily, with Arrow by my side, I think we both were able to share the duty of 'childminding' the canid.

As we approached the current, we joined a large pink cloud that was being pulled in by its tide of winds. "Ride its surface," I commanded. "Don't let us get pulled into the mist. I want actually be able to _see_ where we are going."

"Aye, Captain." Mr Turnbuckle replied and began to change our elevation. The point of the bowsprit rose and with it so, did the ship.

"Full sail, Mr Arrow. Keep us at broad reach for now but catch the wind and take in as much light as possible."

Mr Arrow repeated my instructions, albeit at three time the volume with a gusty bellow from his lungs. The riggers in the yardarms above leapt into action; tiny figures scurried up and down the ratlines, untying jib and headsails and gaffs. I stepped forward and pressed some controls on the panel – the rudder would be running semi-automatically to take us above the clouds and the ship will instinctively raise and fall with the winds rather than fight them, but we would now have to constantly correct our course and fight straying away from our position.

"Keep us on course, Mr Turnbuckle. Southwest, two-two-zero-one."

"Two-two-zero-one, aye!"

The point of the bowsprit shifted, the deck lurched and the sails lifted with the wind. The sails pulsed with energy, their light collecting down into the engine rooms below where Mr Meltdown and Mr Snuff stood at their positions. A green light lit on the control panel, signalling that our engines were taking the surge in power perfectly. The deck buzzed below my feet.

The current was almost running parallel to us now. I ordered for the riggers to change tack to keep us running with the wind to get the ship in closer, and then I lifted my spyglass and applied the filter to calculate the running speed of the current. She was running fast today – a good five or so knots faster than usual. _Perfect_, I thought.

"Turn us now, eight degrees to port! Change tack to broad reach to starboard."

"Eight degrees port, aye!"

"Tack to broad reach, aye!"

"Increasing speed," I said, shooting a hand forward for the controls to increase the thruster's boost. On deck the ropers were jumping to their places, hauling the lines to swing the yard. "Changing azimuth thrusters, portside blast. Hold those yards steady!"

The azimuth thrusters at the ship's rear turned their direction to keep the stern of her in line with the bow. As a result, the ship began to merge into the current on a smooth parallel course, riding smoothly over the cloud below.

"Taking us in, ma'am!"

"Bring us down to zero elevation then!"

The ship gave a sudden lurch as the we dipped into a downward slide. It was rather wobbly, as expected when a ship travelling below the current's speed would do when converging, but the thrusters kicked in and straightened us out before we dived too far and for a brief few seconds, I felt as if I was sliding down a fairground ride from my childhood. A usual occurrence, and one that often makes my stomach flip. I grinned, feeling the ship lurching forward underfoot. A quick glance at the graphs confirmed my thought – our speed was riding up and up beyond fifteen knots (he climbed up to eighteen in the end). The current caught the sails on the broad reach tack, swinging us in towards the center of the current and taking us safely away from the edge.

"Carry on, Mr Turnbuckle! Straighten us up at your discretion, I'm taking the rudder off automatic. Mr Arrow, changing tack again! Get us running forward with the wind." I said, thunderously pressing various controls.

Our sails were reading green against the stress, our engines shuddering with the power surge of the current, but they were quickly being dispersed into our rudders to keep control of the ship. Mr Turnbuckle was steering the wheel with his many tentacled arms, tilting the deck so both port and starboard sides were flat with the horizon. Mr Arrow was shouting for the ropers to haul away at the braces. The deck lurched again underfoot, and we soon steadied out flat. The notorious rocking had ceased, and the ship had returned to smooth sailing.

"Dismiss the crew, Mr Arrow. We will remain at full sail."

"Aye, ma'am. Remaining at full sail! Hands dismissed!"

"Keep us in the current, Mr Turnbuckle." I said, turning to our helmsman. "We will remain on the heading two-zero-zero-zero until we reach the Cloud."

The Zirrelian saluted. "Aye, ma'am. Permission to set auto-pilot and regularly check position?"

"Permission granted. Pass the message to all on watch that we must remain within the current at all time. Any sign of drifting is to be immediately reported to myself and you."

"Aye, Cap'n. Hands and Mackrini are on watch, I'll let the know."

I nodded and stepped forward to put the helm into auto-pilot. "And tell them to tell those on watch next, and so on. I will be keeping a constant eye in the meantime as well."

"Aye Cap'n."

"You stand relieved, Mr Turnbuckle."

"Thank you, Cap'n." Touching his forehead with a tentacle, Mr Turnbuckle descended from the bridge and down to the galley.

I stayed by the helm, feeling the ship steady out beneath my feet. The wonderful thing about currents is how smooth the spacing can be once within the stream. The strong winds will shave off days of our journey to the Cloud and these beautiful clouds that the current has dragged into its grasp will provide us with plenty of fresh water. Even if we are only a few days out from Crescentia, I will not miss an opportunity to refill our tanks, even by a few gallons.

"Mr Arrow! Call all hands to bring out the nets! Rig them from the spanker booms port and starboard!"

"Aye, Captain!"

My second-in-command took a big gulp of air and shouted to the riggers and ropers, calling for the water nets to be brought up from the hold and attached to the two lowest yardarms on our ship, allowing them to hang down overboard and flow behind us, collecting in water vapour like two large spiderwebs. The crew scrambled around the decking and many ropers poured down the hatches like ants down an anthill. They returned moments later with the nets – rolled up blankets of meshing. Within minutes, there were meters and meters of special webbing billowing from the yardarms, collecting water droplets to be drained into our filtering systems and our water containers.

Water is a sacred part of spacing – without it, we will dehydrate and die. We need it to extinguish any fires or this whole wooden ship will go up in flames. I refuse to pass an opportunity to collect some.

I lowered my eyes from supervising the rigging of the nets to see our financier watching with interest from the middeck, a telescope clutched in his hand, standing well out of the way of the ropers hauling in the excess rope from the rigging. Thankfully, he had not taken an unexpected trip overboard. Doctor Doppler already looked far better than he did this morning; the dark circles around his eyes had faded and he had more colour in his cheeks. He blushed when he noticed my gaze and opened his mouth to shout out something, but he quickly decided against it and looked down to tinker with his telescope instead. Curious, I ran a critical eye over the crew's work but could not see anything to warrant Doctor Doppler's apparent worry. I thought better to investigate and so I turned to Arrow, and asked, "I can trust you to continue supervising the nets, Mr Arrow?"

He tipped his head to me. "Of course, Captain!" He replied, and I descended down the decks to converse with the Doctor. So far, I believe we have managed to have two conversations now without going for the other's jugular, so I decided it was worth testing my luck with a third.

I approached the Doctor and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Doctor! You looked as though you have something you want to say?"

"Oh! Oh - only that it's all very impressive." The Doctor commented with another blush, motioning up to the nets with his telescope. "I have to admit, I've always wondered how spacers don't run out of water when in space."

"Some do, tragically." I replied, following the Doctor's eyes up to the billowing webs of netting. It was truly a rather impressive sight to behold. "Which is why I will not miss this chance to fill up our containers to full capacity. Usually, though, all it takes is a few clouds or some fog to collect enough to last a ship until its next waystation. There are even springs on some asteroids and islandic places, although you have to remember where they are and pray that they are not contaminated. Anyway, are you here to take some observations, Doctor? I did spot you with your telescope as we joined the current."

"Yes, I can't miss an opportunity like this." He nodded. "Who knows when I'll ever venture into space again? I may not be so fortunate so this might be the only time I experience joining a current like this!"

Surprisingly, the Doctor sounded a little sad at this prospect. "I'm surprised, Doctor, that you would want to ship out again. I thought you would have had enough of spacing during your disaster of a launch, and with your recent space sickness." I smirked.

The Doctor frowned. "I wouldn't call the launch a disaster?"

"No, it went off without a hitch, but I was referring to your tumbles around the deck and that rather unfortunate encounter with a space whale…"

"Well…well-if you think about it statistically…I've always been rather, err, clumsy so – technically – I've had more disasters on land than i-in space." He mumbled and shifted his feet, clearly embarrassed that I remembered his inept accidents during the ship's launch. Maybe it was a little unfair to bring it up, but still – it was the most amusing thing to happen on this voyage to date.

Yet I had to stifle a laugh at his rather optimistic reasoning. "Well, that is certainly one way to look at it." I said. "I had better return to my duties, Doctor. Enjoy your star-gazing and please remember to keep both feet on the decking."

As I turned to go, the Doctor spoke up. "Uh-Captain…i-if I may?"

I paused and looked the financier in the eye. "Yes, Doctor?"

His hands fidgeted for a moment, his eyes darting to make sure that no one was paying any attention to us on the middeck. They weren't – Arrow was busy overseeing the crew's work and the ropers were far too preoccupied with hauling in the lines. I gazed at our financier curiously. What could he possibly have to say that he did not want anyone else to hear?

Finally, he drew in a shallow breath. "I never did apologise to you – for the way I spoke to you the day before yesterday. You were right. I never should have…you know, raised my voice and s-such. It was very impolite of me. Especially after the kindness you showed me last night when I was so unwell."

"I would have helped anyone on my ship, Doctor." I interrupted, slightly taken aback by this unforeseen apology. "I am the Captain, it is my part of my duty."

"Yes, I know, but you still gave me that medicine even after…everything." He smiled awkwardly and sighed. "It was clearly obvious that you were the better person, then."

I may have imagined it, but it is possible that I felt my own cheeks flush. To hide this, I took the opportunity to shoot a glance over my shoulder at the ropers to ensure that they were concentrating on the ropes – and to avoid Doctor Doppler's gaze. "I have hardly been innocent in my behaviour too, Doctor." I said softly. "But I do accept your apology – and thank you. I understand that apologising can be a difficult thing to do."

"And I have accepted your apology - for what you said about my work." Said the Doctor. "It…must have been rather difficult for you too."

"It was. I rarely issue apologies but I was in the wrong that time." I said, meeting his eyes once again. For some reason unbeknown to me, I decided to smile. Maybe it was because I was satisfied with the Doctor's apology. "But thank you, all the same."

He stared at me for a moment and I stared back, wondering if he was expecting me to say more, but the Doctor seemed to suddenly snap out of his reverie and cleared his throat. "I uh-um – better get back to my observations. Of the stars, th-that is." He stuttered. "For my research."

I couldn't imagine what else he could possibly be observing, so I decided just to leave him to it. "Of course, Doctor. I shall see you at tonight's watch."

With a farewell smile, he scampered away to the bows, tailcoats swinging around his ankles. I watched him head forward before turning on my heel back to the bridge, yelling out to the ropers to pick up their pace with the hauling. The nets were shimmering in our wake like parachutes and some drag was to be expected but thankfully, after a quick check on the bridge, not enough to severely impair our progress.

"A textbook example of joining a current, ma'am." Mr Arrow praised after he dismissed the crew.

I nodded. "Indeed, and we even managed to forage a little bit of water as well."

"Most satisfactory." Mr Arrow commented as we stood side by side, staring down from the bridge at the crew as they dispersed. Some chose to return immediately below decks, others skylarked in the shrouds. "Did Doctor Doppler enjoy his observation?"

"He is certainly enthusiastic. He seems unsure if he will ever be able to head into space again, so he is taking every opportunity he can."

"I must admit, Captain, it is refreshing to see someone so enthralled with spacing."

I gave a quiet laugh. "Well, I believe he has never been to space before. He's just lagging behind the rest of us – I'm sure in a few weeks he will have settled and soured."

"Maybe not ma'am. Maybe he will turn out like you and retain that initial excitement and wonder. His reaction reminds me of your first journey into space, ma'am, when you were only a few years old – maybe two or three."

"Don't be ridiculous. There are no similarities between myself and Doctor Doppler, no matter what age."

"Oh, there are, ma'am. I remember when you were running from stem to stern gaping in awe at the masts in a very similar manner, although you did also try your very best to climb the shrouds up to the crow's nest. I believe your mother had to scoop you up regularly and take you back to the bridge, out of the way of the ropers' feet."

Next to him, I was rolling my eyes. "You sound like an old man, Mr Arrow, immersing yourself in all these memories."

"I am an old man, Captain." His eyes were glittering with amusement. "And I also remember a small kitten in sailor dress trying her best to turn the helm by pawing at the lower spokes-"

I have no interest in hearing tales of me as a child, especially ones comparing me to a silly scientist, so I stepped away and left Mr Arrow quietly laughing to himself. I returned to my cabin to update this log and before tonight's supper, I shall try and complete a few extra rounds of the ship as well as overseeing the bringing of the water nets in and properly storing them in the hold. I hope to inspect our water tanks as well, to ensure the filters have properly done their jobs and not contaminated our water storage. Any issues will require some work from our engineers but hopefully all will be well.

Nevertheless, I will have to have a quick supper tonight. Arrow will not mind eating alone; he's aware how our duties aboard this ship comes first. Besides, a supper alone might be the best course of action – that way, I can finish my duties before my watch with Doctor Doppler. Therefore, I shall update the log tomorrow after breakfast with the findings of my inspections.

Hopefully, there will not be much to report.


	5. The Calm

**AN: I hope everyone is safe and well during this pandemic. **

Date: 005.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, the Magellan Current.

It is currently zero eight hundred hours in the morning and already I have much to write about.

Firstly, it seems our cabin boy is the audacious kind indeed. After his rounds, Arrow reported late to me last evening while I was down in one of the store holds, where I was overseeing the inspection of our water tanks with our engineer Mr Snuff and cook Mr Silver. Arrow was chuckling softly to himself as he approached.

"Found something amusing, Mr Arrow?" I asked, not taking my eyes from where Mr Snuff was taking samples of the water we collected during the day. It was stored in a separate tank where it can be tested and, if necessary, purified before being deemed safe to use.

Arrow took off his hat as he ducked into the room, saving it from being knocked off his head. "I just found our cabin boy lurking in the longboat bay, ma'am. He was taking advantage of Mr Silver's absence from the galley to do a little bit of exploring around the ship."

Hearing this, Mr Silver cringed visibly. He turned to us and started to create some kinds of excuses – something about Mr Hawkins never being on such a large ship before, that the boy was naturally curious, as is expected of young 'lads' his age – but I cut him off rather sharply.

"I expect you to have firmer control over your cabin boy, Mr Silver. This is not a pleasure cruise and this ship is not a park for Mr Hawkins to romp and roam around as he pleases. Mr Hawkins has no business in the longboat bay unless accompanied by you."

"A-aye, Cap'n. I'll give the boy a good dressin' down before lights out."

I nodded. "Good. Make it clear to him that certain parts of this ship are not for casual use."

Of course, I can understand Mr Hawkins' curiosity – the _Legacy_ must feel colossal to a boy with fresh space legs who has only ever known a small mining community like on Montressor. Nevertheless, it can be dangerous for him to go scurrying about the ship all alone. There are certain ropes and holds that should not be messed with and he could damage some vital parts of the ship if he started fiddling with any equipment. Common crewmembers are permitted to their quarters, the galley, and the main deck during all hours and I am not against some skylarking in smooth sailing. Certain places – like our holds, the longboat bay, and the engine room – are only to be visited for routine inspections and by the specialists for their duties.

Still, I turned my eyes to Arrow and smirked. "Maybe we should organise a little tour for our adventurous cabin boy, hm?"

Arrow laughed. "In all honesty, Captain, the boy did seem genuinely interested in the ship. I did give him a few pearls of information – about the woods used for the ship and such. I am sure he meant no harm."

"Well, he will be acquainted with the ship soon enough, especially when astrobarnacles start growing on the keel."

"I am sure he is no rush to explore that part of the ship ma'am."

"Indeed." I laughed. "But the rest of your inspection was satisfactory?"

"Aye, ma'am. Not a rope out of place."

"Just what I wanted to hear. Well, Mr Arrow, you are free for the rest of the night. I shall see you in the morning."

"Aye, good night, Captain." And with that, Arrow slipped back out of the room and was gone.

Soon after, our inspection finished with satisfying results. The water filters are working to their fullest capacity and our tanks are full to the brim with fresh clean water. Hopefully the crew will take full advantage of this and use the showers soon. I am looking forward to the luxury myself - not to be impolite but after spending such a long time in a small room with Mr Snuff and his_ flatulent_ way of speaking, I am rather eager to cleanse myself down.

After a quick supper, I rushed through the rest of my rounds before it was time for my watch. I made myself a cup of tea to take out onto the bridge with me, as it can be very cold in the current's winds and decided last minute to take my raincoat as well as an extra layer.

Unfortunately, Doctor Doppler did not have the foresight to bring his own and spent most of the watch shivering on deck. A few words were spoken, courteous greetings and all that, but thankfully most of the watch was spent with a good deal of distance between us. Doctor Doppler had brought his telescope with him and was taking readings of the formation of clouds that had accompanied us since joining the current, constantly scribbling notes. Even though I would have preferred him to keep his eyes moving, observing to hazards rather than keep them trained on one particular spot, I allowed him to continue in his observations. His information may come of use if the clouds of vapour prove to be an issue in any way, and if he has experience writing for the Shipping Forecast, he might have some foresight into cosmological threats. A part of me pondered if I had been a bit too harsh on the man since he came aboard. I do not regret my rebutting of his choice of crew, but my comments about his work certainly were uncalled for…although, he is certainly naïve and incompetent in a social sense, there must be some academic intelligence there for him to have been able to achieve a doctorate. Maybe as this voyage progresses, Doctor Doppler will evolve beyond this bumbling stage.

Nevertheless, I kept quiet during the watch and remained on the bridge with my cup of tea for company, satisfied that the ship was staying on course beautifully. The rigging was shrieking and the woodwork of the ship yawning as she always does in strong winds. The sails were still unfurled, catching the winds and pulling us along. I kept an eye for any signs of strain or struggle, but the_ Legacy_ is far used to the pull of currents by now. Therefore, the watch passed by rather uneventfully. It wasn't long until the Doctor and I were relieved of our watch and so, I turned in to bed.

* * *

I had very little sleep last night. My mind was still restless from the mysteries about the map swirling around my head and as I kept wondering about what could be waiting for us there, each idea sprung new questions. Something else was haunting my mind as well, something I did not fully realise until the early morning. I headed out onto the deck but instead of checking the bridge, I immediately headed down to the forecastle where Arrow was stood on watch.

"Good morning, ma'am." He greeted, tipping his hat as I approached. "Did you have a pleasant watch last night?"

"I did, in fact. Rather chilly but not unexpected in a current. We are on course and making good time. Tell me, Arrow, have you spotted any ships lately?"

"No ma'am. Have you?"

I shook my head. "No, which is rather odd considering we are on one of the most-used shipping routes around Crescentia – which could mean one thing."

"I shall put the future watchmen on alert, ma'am. That is, until we are fortunate to pass a friendly ship." Mr Arrow grimaced.

A quiet shipping lane is usually a sign of bad weather further along one's route. When we left Crescentia, there was perfectly clear skies around the spaceport and a good strong solar wind. Many other ships would have shipped out then, using the good weather to their advantage. On worse days, when there are storms or strong dust clouds or other phenomena and such, most ships would choose to delay their departure for a few days unless absolutely necessary. The same may have happened further along the current, towards the Magellan Cloud and Pelsinor – bad weather would cause ships to stay in port, and therefore leave long gaps of silence in the shipping lane. If there is some bad weather further ahead, we could be heading straight into the thick of it.

It is not always the case, but when a shipping lane is unusually quiet, it is common sense to be on guard for a problem. It could be a coincidence, but I would hate to be caught unprepared.

"Thank you, Mr Arrow. I will be in my cabin when you wish to report."

"Aye, aye, Captain."

On my way back to my cabin, I decided to stop at the bridge to run a brief look over the consoles to ensure we were still on track. Doctor Doppler had made an early appearance and greeted me at the bridge, carrying a telescope and a notepad. I bid him good morning but left him to carry out his observations without distraction. I wonder what he is working on? He has been consistently taking various readings from all sides of the ships for the past few days. Maybe some kind of survey of the current?

As I checking the consoles, my ears caught the sound of a closing door. Turning my head, I saw Mr Hawkins leaving my cabin. He was carrying an empty tray under his arm after having deposited my breakfast.

"Mr Hawkins?" I called to the boy as he began to descend down the stairs to the middeck.

"Ma'am?"

"I hope Mr Silver has informed you that exploring this ship in your free time is strongly disapproved."

A cloud darkened over Mr Hawkins' face. "Yes ma'am."

"I do not wish for you to cause any damage to our stores, yet alone to yourself. There are some heavy machinery and crates down in the hold. If one should fall on you and no one was there to recover you, you may cause yourself some serious injury." I explained. "It's for your own benefit, Mr Hawkins. You will have a chance to see the rest of the ship in good time when you are completing your duties with Mr Silver."

Mr Hawkins turned away. "Sure." He said bluntly and left without my dismissal.

Doctor Doppler saw the exchange and gave me a somewhat-apologetic glance. "Please don't judge Jim too harshly." He muttered once the boy was out of earshot. "Most boys his age go through this rather terrify- I mean,_ trying_ phase."

I snorted dismissively. "Nothing some toil and discipline cannot iron out."

Doctor Doppler nodded eagerly in agreement, his ears bouncing comically around his head. "I couldn't agree more but…I understand Jim will be doing some chores but nothing too…well, _laborious_, I hope? He is still only a boy…"

"Mr Hawkins is nearly a man grown, Doctor. On other ships you can find cabin boys as young as ten." I replied. "Besides, Mr Hawkins' duties are mostly limited to galley chores – washing dishes, preparing meals, and such. The most disagreeable job he has is scrubbing the heads, which I doubt any spacer would be happy to do."

"Heads?" Doctor Doppler frowned and cocked his head. I inwardly rolled my eyes.

"Spacer toilets, Doctor."

"Oh…well, Jim used to help his mother run their inn back on Montressor, so he should do very well with his chores." He steered away from the privy talk rather quickly, thank goodness. "He's a very good cook from what I've tasted. I often dine at the Benbow – err, that is I _used _to dine. Until it burnt down, of course, unfortunately."

I nodded along politely to his talking, although I was completely disinterested. It seems our financier is indeed somewhat of an over-sharer, which worries me. I wonder how many details about this voyage has he already 'overshared' with others on land? You would think that a scientist would have more sense…

Doctor Doppler began to ramble on about some Montressan inn, and I was growing bored and quickly thought of a way to switch the conversation around – there's nothing I hate more than being tied into a passive, dreary conversation.

"Speaking of meals," I interrupted. "Would you like to join Mr Arrow and myself tonight for supper, Doctor?"

"Oh! Uh…"

The scientist began to stutter and stumble through his words. I couldn't make much sense of his words; I was torn between deciding that he was trying to politely decline my invitation or if the Doctor had gotten the wrong end of the stick and thought that this was some outstanding honour that only he had ever been credited with. Nevertheless, I decided to clarify some details.

"It is generally considered bad form for a Captain like myself to neglect at least one meal with my financier during a voyage." I informed. "I had hoped you would have joined us after the launch, as a sort of welcome meal. Alas, things did not turn out as planned – and then with your unfortunate illness…"

I tried to skate past the Doctor and I's rather pugnacious beginning, seeing as I would not say that we were completely past that. Do not get me wrong, I still find the man rather wearisome and I have still not forgiven him for hiring such a band of ignoramuses, but he has apologised for his childish tantrums and accepted my own apology for the comment I made about his work. Besides, the map has impressed me and although it is hard for me to admit, so has Doctor Doppler's history with the Astromet Office. Hopefully, I can steer any future conversations towards that topic rather than drudge through the painful stories and anecdotes that usually come with my financiers.

Doctor Doppler seemed to take the hint – I was bound by rules of decorum and good manners to invite him to dinner. He reigned in his tongue and accepted.

"Excellent," I said, wrapping up the conversation neatly. I feared I would never get the formality out of the way. "If you will excuse me, Doctor, I shall be getting to my breakfast. Enjoy the rest of your day."

And with that over with, I left the bridge and returned to my cabin to eat.

* * *

Lunch approached fast, as it always does when there is not much to do in the day. One of the many benefits about sailing through a current is that it provides a very smooth sailing experience, and therefore not much needs to be done in ways of navigation. Apart from regular checks that we were not drifting out, little needs to be done there. This gave me plenty of time to inspect the rigging and start to plan a few exercises for the crew with Mr Arrow.

"A couple of practice rounds reefing, and unfurling sails, should wear them out for the day." I mused as we approached my cabin for lunch. "Idle minds being the devil's playground, you know."

Arrow concurred. "It will give us an opportunity to break in a new bunch, ma'am, and see exactly what this 'stand-up' crew is fully capable of."

"Call them what you will…" I muttered darkly, watching a few riggers whispering in huddles by the main mast. They have the most disturbing gleam in some of their eyes – something calculating, something I certainly do not like the look of.

We quickly settled at my desk, and I unfurled a few rolls of maps across the desk. Arrow busied himself with my private stash of tea, preparing a cup for each of us. I was counting the nautical miles between Crescentia and the Magellan Cloud with my divider, waiting patiently. "We should expect to arrive within a few days," I commented as Arrow brought over my tea from the sideboard. I used the cup to anchor down the curling corners of the map. "But if we were to encounter some tricky weather, perhaps closer to a week?"

"I have always left navigating to my more experienced colleagues," Arrow spoke. "But I believe that is a sound prediction. Would we have much further to travel afterwards, ma'am?"

Memories of the holographic map flashed before my eyes, and I ran through all the places that the intelligent pixels imitated.

"Months, at the very least. We will have to travel through some wilderness space but for now, we are on course for the Cloud. Once there, we should stop and resupply…but we have a choice on where to go next." I sighed, and unrolled another map, one I had been working with the day before yesterday. "I hope to follow another current from the Cloud, but we could shave off weeks of spacing by cutting some corners. However, that means abandoning all major routes and traversing into the wilderness."

Arrow's face darkened. "How long would we be in the wilderness for?"

"Weeks, a month at the most."

"With no refueling stations or patrols?"

"Exactly." I drummed my fingers on my desk. "It would be extremely dangerous – pirates, mines, unsavoury space predators, and no chance of a weather report. With the nature of our voyage being what it is, it is not something I am willing to risk this time. Doctor Doppler decided to rope me into a very dreary conversation this morning about an inn he used to visit planetside, and I am afraid to say he was very generous with the details. If he has conversed with even one person about this map, then we are very much in danger of being followed."

The mood turned grim and Arrow nodded in agreement, his face set firmly. "Where would the long route take us?" He asked.

I pointed to a few places further west to the Cloud. "On the Saxonite Pass, through to Epsilon."

Arrow raised an eyebrow. "Epsilon? Why not stop at Saxonite itself and restock there? That we can avoid the Oort Cloud surrounding Epsilon and bypass the planet completely."

I shook my head. "I would prefer to go to Epsilon and through the Oort Cloud. I have a horrible feeling, Arrow. Something about this crew, and combined with Doctor Doppler's loose tongue, I have a horrible feeling that the secret is out. I have no proof, of course, but something is telling me we should tread very carefully. Wilderness space is not an option for us. We have to stick to shipping lanes and patrolled routes."

"But why follow the Pass to Epsilon when we can restock at Saxonite?"

"Because the Oort Cloud at Epsilon is a nightmare to safely steer a ship through and only the best of helmsmen would dare and try to navigate their way through."

Arrow saw the glimmer in my eyes and cracked a crooked grin. "It is very fortunate, then, that we have one of those very few helmsmen aboard – or helmswomen, I should say."

"Precisely. The Oort cloud should definitely throw off anyone who is stalking us off our scent. That is, if we are indeed being followed. We can stop at Epsilon, resupply, and we have a vast choice of routes to make our exit through." I nodded in satisfaction. "There's no harm in being cautious."

"You call spacing through a field of icebergs and asteroids _cautious_, Captain?" Arrow chuckled.

"I call it skill, and adventure, and spending most of my youth fooling around on a solar surfer." I said with a smirk. A knock on my stateroom door interrupted our conversation. I rolled up the maps, and called for Mr Hawkins to enter, carrying our lunch of a salad of nuts and greens. I turned to Arrow and smiled. "And now, my friend," I said in a low voice. "I do believe it is time for you to see this map of ours."

* * *

To my dismay, Arrow's reaction to the map was rather a disappointment.

Do not get me wrong, he was surprised by the advancement of the technology. When Mr Hawkins opened the map for the second time, and the thousands of 'intelligent pixels' swarmed from the sphere, Arrow let out an audible gasp. Even I felt a shiver run down my spine watching the event unfold a second time.

"My word…"

As Arrow rose to his feet and began to wander among the emerald replicas of various planets and stars, my eyes followed him, watching for every minute change in expression. It is very rare to catch Mr Arrow off guard like this, and I have known him since I was an infant. However, he did not seem as bewildered by the map as I was, but that may have been because I had no inkling of what I was about to witness whereas Arrow had listened to me regale about the map all through yesterday's lunch. Thinking about how I dropped my guard so easily in front of Mr Hawkins and Doctor Doppler almost made me a little embarrassed, especially seeing how Arrow was able to retain most of his composure. It is the little details like this that makes me realise how far I have still yet to grow as a spacer, despite my years of service in the Navy.

"This is by far the most advanced hologram I have ever seen." Mr Arrow stated, approaching what I later realised was a tiny version of his home, Cragoria, a planet he has not had the chance to visit in nearly two hundred years, where he frequently sends letters addressed to his sister and her son, his only surviving family.

"That is because this is not a hologram, my friend." I said softly, rising from my chair. "Or at least, that is what Doctor Doppler hypothesises. He said yesterday that these images are actually created by minuscule robots rather than projected virtual images through diffracted light. Like schooling fish, moving in perfect unison."

"It is truly remarkable."

"It is…" I said in agreement.

My eyes strayed from Arrow to Mr Hawkins, who stood near my store cupboard, holding the empty map in his hands, peering up curiously at all the constellations that surrounded him. He must have seen this a thousand times by now. I know that if I could open this map so easily, I would have already done so and spent hours just wandering about the planets – but there is so much to take in, that even after a thousand times, there would still be more places to discover. This map may even go beyond our Empire's frontiers and into wilderness space, already perfectly mapped where our exploration vessels have yet to venture. If it does, I should definitely begin to prepare for recording that data onto paper, maybe even translate them into traditional maps.

"But look here, Arrow," I said as I moved towards Saxonite and Epsilon. Curiously, the Oort Cloud surrounding the planet was not featured, but maybe there are some features too small for the intelligent pixels to represent. "This is our course. Once we reach the Cloud, we restock, and make our way down here."

I pointed with one clawed finger, drawing an invisible line between the Magellanic Cloud and Epsilon that was our Saxonite Pass. I haven't travelled the Pass much before in the past, but I was aware that it was a fairly basic shipping route with a current that sometimes faltered in strength.

"I concur with your decision ma'am." Arrow said once he too imaged our journey. "If we restock fully at the Cloud, we will not have reason to stop at Saxonite, and we can keep a good pace ahead of any trouble lurking behind."

"Then it is decided." I wrapped up the conversation neatly and thanked Mr Hawkins for his service as he closed the map promptly. The boy suddenly looked a bit wary, maybe a little anxious. His eyes had widened when Arrow mentioned the 'trouble' behind us.

"You don't think-" He started suddenly, before stopping himself. For a brief second, it was almost as if he had forgotten to uphold his gloomy persona and shown us a slight glimpse of someone else. He quickly backtracked and frowned intensely, as if trying to trick us into disbelieving that he was anything else than a bad-tempered youth. "You think there could be pirates following us?"

I allowed myself an awry smile.

"Unless Doctor Doppler has been a bit loose-lipped prior to us casting off, I believe we should be fine, Mr Hawkins." Arrow said firmly.

"Even if that is the case, I doubt there would have been any pirates close by enough on Montressor to have caught wind about our expedition. A few ambitious merchants, perhaps. Even so, pirates would not dare to freely travel down this current shipping lane. So long as we stick to patrolled routes and avoid wilderness space unless absolutely necessary, we should be perfectly fine." There may have been a dapple of lying on my part, but I honestly did not want Mr Hawkins to be so worried about dangers such as pirates.

"Besides, we have two perfectly good laser cannons mounted on deck in case any issues do occur." Arrow piped in.

"And Mr Meltdown's papers claim that he is a rather fine shot." I added, although omitting the part where I believe those papers to be exaggerated greatly. I approached him and held out my hand for the map. "You have nothing to fear, Mr Hawkins."

The moment those words left my lips, the old withdrawn teenager appeared before me. Mr Hawkins glared at me angrily, his jaw clenched as though I had insulted him. "I'm not scared of them." He almost sneered as he dropped the map into my palm and turned to march right out of my stateroom.

I opened my mouth to quickly scold him for his insolent attitude when the boy suddenly hesitated at the door and froze. "But…there were pirates on Montressor when we left. The ones that burned down my house…I don't think they went far after. The old guy who gave me the map…he gave it to me because there were pirates chasing him and…I think it was really that map they were after."

Now, I was already aware that Mr Hawkins had lost his home in a fire soon after he had gained ownership of the map, and that pirates were most likely the arsons, but for Mr Hawkins to openly state that there was a band of pirates _specifically_ hunting down that map did cause an icy feeling in my chest. I quickly met Mr Arrow's eyes to see a similar grim expression to mine.

"How exactly did you come by this map, Mr Hawkins?"

The boy looked from me to Mr Arrow, and then to the map. Mr Hawkins then went on to tell Mr Arrow and I the full tale of how he had lost his home. According to him, a small craft had crashed outside his home and the only occupant was mortally injured. When Mr Hawkins had tried to help him, the man gave him possession of the map and promptly passed away. "Two seconds later, the pirates landed right outside and started shooting through the window and door. We had to jump out of the upstairs window to get away."

"We?" Mr Arrow questioned.

"Me, my mom, and Doc."

I raised an eyebrow. "Doctor Doppler was there as well?"

Mr Hawkins nodded. "Yeah, he took us to his house to call the cops. We've been staying there ever since…"

It was a tragic tale, one that made me angry as well as anxious. By Mr Hawkins account, it seemed quite clear that these pirates knew exactly what they were after. I had not realised that there was already a band of blood-thirsty cut-throats involved. Pirates often raid villages and colonies, anywhere they find to be undefended, when they have had not much luck looting in space. Pirate captains are afraid of mutiny if they do not deliver the so-called 'goods' to their crew, and will look anywhere for a chance to pillage and steal. I initially thought that the raid that Mr Hawkins had lost his home to was one that was random, by a desperate buccaneer looking for easy pickings.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about these pirates? A name, a place, what their ship looked like?"

Mr Hawkins seemed to hesitate, but he shook his head. "The old Salamander was called Billy Bones. That's all I know."

A tense pause fell as Arrow and I absorbed this new information. With a sense of dread, I locked the map away. "Thank you, Mr Hawkins, you are dismissed."

For a brief second, the boy lingered, but inevitably unlocked the stateroom door and left. Arrow and I looked at each other but no words needed to be said. From now on, we would have to push forward very carefully.

Very carefully indeed.

* * *

"Here she comes…"

Shortly after lunch, a distant ship was spotted further down the shipping lane. She was travelling past us, heading for Crescentia, and was outside of the current – a sensible choice, as battling the current's winds would only slow their progress down. After reporting to the bridge with my own spyglass, I could see the faint shape of half-shell sails and a smudge of white that was the hull. "She's a naval ship," I told Arrow as I closed my spyglass.

"Should we prepare for a passing honours, ma'am?" Arrow asked hesitantly. In the past, we have always continued to muster up a passing honour for ships of Her Majesty's fleet, as the Legacy is still technically a naval ship herself and I am still an officer, albeit a retired reserve. However, imaging this sorry excuse of a crew lined up against the gunwales, saluting sloppily, caused me to cringe.

I shook my head decidedly. "No, prepare to dip the ensign instead."

We resigned to the merchant way of passing honours, which did not require the crew to show their miserable faces on deck. The other ship had altered its course, her bowsprit turning towards us as to approach. I assumed she wanted to pass on a message, or request some information, so we dropped our speed a few knots as to not fly past her and so we would be able to read her signalling flags a little easier. As the approaching ship drew nearer, most of the hands retired below deck. The only few who remained included Mr Onus, our lookout who took up his position in the crow's nest, and Mr Turnbuckle who stood at his post at the helm. Our cabin boy also appeared from the galley with a mop and bucket of water in tow. Every few minutes, he would quickly check over his shoulder to peek at the other vessel. I thought that the boy must be curious to see another ship out in space, as we have been alone since we left Crescentia.

As the other ship grew closer and closer, I kept checking for any give-away details to identify her. I quickly realised that she was a fast frigate as they are some of the most easily recognisable ships in the Royal Navy, with lower masts that hang below the ship's hull, allowing for more solar intake. They are incredibly fast ships, and invaluable help in a crisis. When combined with other fast frigates, they form a formidable team than can easily out-manoeuvre cannon-fire, and are quick enough to test an enemies' strength before making a speedy getaway. Instantly, I thought of the 32nd Strike Flotilla which resides at base at Crescentia, and that this must be one of their ships. This narrowed her down to one of four ships: _Lightning, Vanguard, Sovereign,_ or _Marathon._

"She's a fast frigate. Must be returning home to Crescentia." I noted as I stood at the bridge, waiting for the inevitable to happen. "Hopefully they'll have some news from further down the current. When we get closer, I want us to slow down and drop anchor once we are close enough to communicate."

Arrow nodded. "Indeed, ma'am. They will want to know what lies ahead for them too."

"Aye, Captain." Mr Turnbuckle acknowledged. "Slow and steady when she comes in close."

I was soon able to identify her clearly with my spyglass and read her name that was painted on her bow in golden letters. It was the RLS _Lightning._ She's a beautiful sight to see, so sleek and slender in design. It is rather a shame I have never had the chance to serve aboard one.

I am well acquainted with her Captain – Captain Miriam Marsh, a tough old veteran of the Kattindog Wars like myself. I remember seeing her for the first time during one of those fleet meetings, where she could pull the whole room's attention by barely raising her voice. Her leadership of the Strike Flotilla proved to be incomparable, especially when our ships were part of the same fleet during our skirmishes with the Procyons. She was also one of the few officers who openly rued the Admiralty's decision to try and court martial me for a second time. Although her support was not able to change their minds, I have always been thankful for that. Now and again, if luck may grant us to both be at liberty at Crescentia, we and few other officers would always meet for a game or two of cards and a few glasses of wine.

"Ahoy, _Lightning_!"

I shouted through the speaking trumpet up to the bridge of the fast frigate.

A reply shouted back. "Ahoy, _Legacy_!" Even though disturbed through the machine's filter, I could still recognise that it was Captain Marsh's voice calling back to me.

"Permission to come aboard?"

"Aye, permission granted!"

I left Mr Arrow in control of the bridge as I descended down to the longboat bay. I sailed the longboat alone, rather than bring a few embarrassing members of this crew along. Both ships dropped their space anchors and a slight tang of ozone tainted the air. As I drew alongside the gunwales of the _Lightning_, Captain Marsh was waiting for me.

Miriam Marsh is an elderly Arcturian, but one can only tell by her greying hair which has always been pulled into a stylised queue ever since that first encounter during the Kattindog Wars. Another iconic feature of hers is the every-persistent gentle smirk she wears no matter her mood (a rumour that ran through the wardroom was that it was a side-effect of some long-foregone health issues, but I have never asked and would rather not gossip about such matters). She was still smirking when I prepared to step down onto the decking, although this time her eyes were glowing with familiar warmth. Behind her, the deck was alive with a full naval crew – officers at the bridge, spacers drilling in combat, a platoon of marines jogging laps around the middeck. The sight of a proper naval ship, fully crewed, made me a little envious of Captain Marsh's position. It has been a long time since I had a ship and crew like that.

I saluted and tried not to stare at the crew in jealousy. "Captain Marsh. Permission to come aboard?"

Marsh brought a hand to touch her own tricorn hat. "Captain Amelia. Permission granted. Welcome to the_ Lightning_." Her voice was a pleasant tone, one connoting delight and surprise. "I did not expect to encounter you out here. Off on another commission, is it?"

Although I have the strictest respect and trust for Captain Marsh, I am afraid that I could not run the risk of confiding in her the exact nature of our voyage. As a result, I feigned boredom by rolling my eyes with a sigh. "Another boring old escorting business I am afraid." I said as I dropped neatly onto the deck of the _Lightning_.

Captain Marsh chuckled. "Who is your distinguished guest this time?"

"An astrophysicist who ironically has never stepped foot into space before."

"Oh? They must be very enthusiastic then."

"Regrettably." Marsh and I laughed at our shared dry humour. "And on your way back to Crescentia, I assume? You have lovely weather for it, we are just out by three days, but it was perfectly clear skies when we left."

To my surprise, Marsh gave a heavy sigh. "Lucky for us perhaps, but I am afraid I do not have such good news for you. We have been running ahead of a rather nasty storm ever since we left the waystation at the Cloud. We managed to ship out in time to avoid it, but it looks like you will be running right into it."

"Solar or the meteorological kind?"

"Average, thankfully, in a way."

"Arrow and I had wondered. The lane has been so quiet since we joined."

"I am afraid your presumptions are correct. It was only with luck and chance we squeezed through a window of calmer weather. We must have been the only ones to have done so. The Strike Flotilla have some gunnery practice this week and I refuse to miss it on the case of some bad weather. Especially when gunnery drills are so few and far between these days…"

"The Admiralty are still afraid to spend their funds on dummy ammunition?"

Marsh nodded her head sadly. "Aye, and real ammunition at that. We've had some new recruits join us, and they haven't witnessed us fire a single cannon in nearly a month. I cannot bare to waste what we have, especially if we're patrolling nearly double what we used to."

"Double patrols?" My ears perked at this. "I was not aware they were sending more ships out on the lanes?"

"That is because we are not just patrolling the lanes. Admiralty wants to keep it all hushed up, but there is a rumour running through the waystations at the Cloud like wildfire. Apparently, some fishing boats went over the frontiers chasing moonfish, and ended up on the wrong end of Procyon laser guns. They will probably claim it was some accident or misunderstanding, but these new orders to patrol the borderlines do make me wonder…"

A cold feeling crept up my spine. The Procyons are a formidable enemy of the Empire, and one I have crossed swords with many times. Since the second Procyon War, they often rear their ugly heads to stir trouble – attempting to annex planets, crossing the borders without permission, prowling the frontiers with ships of war. Attacking harmless fishing ships sounds like their level of ruthlessness and cruelty.

"I would not be surprised if the Procyons were causing grief again."

"Is there a soul in this galaxy who would be?" Marsh stated grimly and sighed. "Anyway, are you in any need of some extra provisions, Captain? We have some to spare."

I shook my head. "My sincerest gratitude, Captain, but no. We are fully stocked, thankfully."

"Then I must bid you goodbye." Marsh touched her hat with one final salute of respect. "Good luck with that storm, and happy spacing for the rest of your voyage."

I returned the salute. "The same to you, Captain, and thank you for the warning. Happy hunting, if you do end up doing so."

Marsh's smirk split into a grin. "Of course, Captain. I shall tell the Procyons that you send your regards."

I too grinned wickedly. "Splendid."

* * *

By the time my feet reached the top deck of the _Legacy_, the _Lightning _was pulling away and we had raised our own space anchor, preparing to continue down the current. To my surprise, Doctor Doppler had made an appearance on deck – the sound of the speaking trumpets and the ship suddenly stopping must have lured him up out of his cabin. He looked almost bewildered at the size of the _Lightning_ and was staring as the ship sailed past.

"Any news, ma'am?" Arrow asked as he approached, hands behind his back and his eyes beadily watching Mr Turnbuckle as he manoeuvred us away from the fast frigate. From the corner of my eye, I could see the Doctor's ear twitch and his head turn, ready to eavesdrop. Not a very honourable thing to do, but I was not too concerned. Impending poor weather is hardly something I can keep a secret for very long.

"Captain Marsh sends her compliments," I started. "There are rumours that the Procyons are causing trouble beyond the frontiers again, so I won't be surprised if there is another war raging by the time we return to Crescentia. What is far more pressing at the moment is that it appears we are heading straight into a storm."

Arrow grimaced. "I feared so ma'am…"

"Unfortunately, but we must press on no matter. Have the crew practice battening down the hatches in preparation, I want the lifelines checked and the yardarms and masts secured with some extra standing rigging. Tell Mr Silver to prepare the galley for harsh weather conditions and I want hurricane lamps attached to the bows. I doubt it, but in case there are any ships muddled up in that storm, I want them to be able to see us."

"Aye, Captain," Arrow touched his hat and bustled away to carry out my orders.

While Arrow began bellowing across the deck to bring the crew up from their repose, I noticed Doctor Doppler lingered near by the mizzenmast. He was wringing his hands as though nervous. "Something the matter, Doctor?" I asked, clasping my own hands behind my back and moving to oversee Arrow order around the crew into groups.

Doctor Doppler seemed surprised at my inquest and shook his head, his ears flapping comically around his head. "Oh- no, Captain, not at all. I just thought there might have been an issue, what with you talking to that other ship and them being so close and-"

"Not to worry, Doctor. Sometimes ships will send a signal to each other if they cross paths on a shipping lane such as this. I was just informing the _Lightning_ that she had clear weather ahead, but alas, it seems we are not so lucky."

"Oh-err, so we are in for a bit of bad weather?"

I nodded. "Meteorological storms are not to be taken lightly. Strong winds can damage sails and throw us off course, rain can flood the lower decks and spoil food stores, lightning can cause all kinds of electrical problems. However, we are lucky to be forewarned, and we should be prepared."

"I suppose this won't be the last one we will encounter either?"

"Most likely, but one can never be too sure."

"And…what you were saying to Mr Arrow about…a-about a war – I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but-"

"I was hardly keeping my voice low, Doctor," I rolled my eyes, knowing full well he made no attempt to try and not overhear our conversation. "But that is a more complex issue. I'm sure I will explain in depth tonight to you at dinner."

"Dinner? Oh! Yes-dinner."

I rose an eyebrow judgingly. "Please do not say that you already forgot about your invitation to dinner tonight, Doctor?"

A strong blush crept across his canine features and Doctor Doppler peered at me sheepishly over his rounds spectacles. "No, no! Just…a momentary relapse in my informational processing…"

"You mean your _memory_."

"Well…yes, that is another way of saying that."

It was rather difficult not to roll my eyes a second time, so I channelled my derision into a smirk. "Well then, doctor, if you are in need of a conscious recall of your declarative memory in order to receive the information stored _somewhere_ in your brain, I am happy to send Mr Arrow to retrieve your from your cabin at suppertime?"

Doctor Doppler seemed a little taken aback by this and started to fidget nervously. Two can play with the science jargon, after all. "No- no, I-I should be fine."

I could have easily stood there all day and watched him squirm, but unfortunately duty calls. "Well, if you will excuse me, Doctor, I have a ship to prepare. I shall see you at dinner."

"Oh-yes! Yes, I -uh- can hardly wait…"

I, on the other hand, was dreading it.

* * *

The Captain's supper with their financier is a good opportunity to network and make links and friendships with important figures in the world of trade, finance, and politics. During my years in the Navy, many times were the ship's officers called to a meal with various important figures in order to build bridges and set the groundwork for good communication and the passing of favours in the future – Captains of other ships, military officers within the marines or armies, dockmasters, victualling masters, managers of large companies, holders of the best stores, owners of drydocks, etcetera. As a commanding officer, being on good terms with such people allowed for easier passage for naval ships, for first pickings of the freshest stock of flour and meat, for encouraged trade, for keeping one's ear to the ground around waystations and docks for news of trouble.

A load of tosh, if you ask me. While I understand taking the advantages of having important figures aboard one's ship, sweet-talking is something I despise – I far prefer to tell people exactly what I think of them.

Take Doctor Doppler, for example. Within minutes of first meeting him, I was upfront about my disdain for his choice of crew. Other Captains may have held their tongue, afraid to upset a possible future investor, but I could not simply brush his incompetence aside. Unfortunately, my words may have set the foundations for some scrappiness between the Doctor and I, but I believe we can move past that. We are both adults, after all. Hopefully, this very meal should heal those particular wounds. That is – if I can withstand an hour or two of being locked in conversation with Doctor Doppler and his stimulating reviews of a friend's Alponian chowder.

* * *

Miraculously, Doctor Doppler somehow remembered that he had an appointment for dinner with Arrow and I, albeit he was a few minutes late. Arrow and I were already in a rapt conversation about our impending tempest and Mr Hawkins was setting out the bowls when there was a rather timid knock at the door. Inwardly, I braced myself for a very long and tedious supper.

"Enter!" I called.

The door inched open, and Doctor Doppler poked his head inside. A blush crept across his face when he saw three sets of eyes staring at him. "M-my apologies, err, Captain. I hope I haven't held anyone up."

"Not at all, Doctor." I gestured to the empty chair next to Mr Arrow. "Please, come take your seat."

He cautiously entered, and I ran a critical glance over his appearance. I spotted a few less creases in his clothing, and his shoes looked rather polished. The golden rim of his spectacles were also gleaming far more than usual. It looked as though Doctor Doppler had done the wise thing and brushed himself up for dinner. At least I cannot criticise his appearance.

As he sat in his chair, his canine nose sniffed appreciatively. "Oh, that smells _delightful_." He commented and clasped his hands together, eyeing up the food Mr Hawkins was currently dishing out into our bowls. "It certainly is different…"

"Pepperpot, if I am not mistaken." I replied, sighing inwardly. It seemed as though it would be one of those meals – casual polite conversation littered here and there, about the meal, about the weather, etcetera. "At least it is not more Bonzabeast."

"One of the drawbacks of spacing, Doctor, is we spacers have a somewhat limited menu." Mr Arrow spoke, picking up a spoon as Mr Hawkins withdrew from the room. "However, during the first few weeks of leaving port, our kitchens are stocked with fresh produce."

"Hopefully we can restock at the Cloud before having to rely on meal after meal of scallops and ship's biscuit." I gave Arrow an awry smile.

Doctor Doppler was listening politely, stirring his own bowl around with an uncertain interest. "Well, I certainly haven't tried this before. I'm not even sure what this, err, _meat_ is?"

I looked over at what he had scooped out of his bowl with his spoon. "That is kingcrab, Doctor. I am surprised you have not eaten it before, seeing as you live so close to Crescentia. All kinds of produce comes in and out of a spaceport so busy."

"Well…I am not much of a cook." He admitted sheepishly, before trying the kingcrab meat.

"Is it to your liking, Doctor?" Mr Arrow asked courteously.

The Doctor nodded. "It is, in fact."

He proceeded to nearly break his teeth by biting straight into a ship's biscuit.

"Excellent." I added with an edge of sarcasm. When conversation is as boring as this, it is difficult to reign in my tongue sometimes. A dry comment here or there is sometimes necessary, I feel, to keep myself in the conversation. Although, it does not always wash over well with my company. Arrow had already shot me a sharp, inconspicuous glance as a warning to reign in my tongue – sometimes I believe the man has forgotten I am no longer a teenager.

If the Doctor had caught my tone of voice, he did not react to it. "It must be incredibly exciting…" He said wistfully. "I mean, you both must have travelled so far and tried so many different kinds of cuisine…I can only imagine all of the kinds of things you've seen."

In spite of myself, the Doctor's naivety made me smile slightly. "While it is true Mr Arrow and I have been pulled from one corner of the galaxy to the next, I am afraid it has hardly been one delicacy after another."

"Spacers on naval ships mostly live off rations, unfortunately." Arrow continued. "Dried beans, powdered eggs, salted meats, tinned fruit and vegetables, whatever foodstuff that does not spoil so quickly."

"Officers are permitted certain privileges, however, such as their own food stores with whatever funds they can produce for themselves. For example, I have always ensured that I have my own stores of tea leaves and coffee beans. Such luxuries I can afford."

Arrow chuckled. "Indeed, once when I was lieutenant in the marines, myself and a few other officers all chipped in for a few lambs. Once a month for about four months straight, we feasted on roasted lamb. Certainly, it was worth the money."

I eyed Arrow suspiciously. "Those lambs were livestock, were they not?"

Arrow grinned sheepishly. "Indeed, back when live animals were kept on nearly all naval ships."

"By my great-grandfather's accounts, you made the midshipmen incredibly envious." I shot Arrow a smirk. When I was a child, I had once found my great-grandfathers journals in my grandfather's library, along with many other spacing accounts from various relatives of mine. I poured over those books for hours, fascinated, although frustrated with the spidery handwriting I found difficult to decipher. "Nevertheless, Doctor, I am afraid I must burst your proverbial bubble. If you are expecting ambrosia and nectar for meal after meal aboard a ship, I regret to inform you that you will be severely disappointed."

Doctor Doppler stirred his bowl slowly with a spoon as he listened, enraptured, I suppose. His eyes had been darting between Arrow and myself, ears perked, intently quiet. "I suppose that makes sense," He said. "Although, I would wager that the sacrifice is worth the adventures."

His words caused me to think back at all the places I have visited, all the people I have met, through my time in the Navy. Momentarily, I forgot where I was and in spite of myself, I smiled softly. "Unconceivably so."

My sight focused back in to see the Doctor smiling to himself as well. "It will be worth it. Even if I have to live on this…" He ruefully glanced at his biscuit, which he had failed to make a dent in. "…This…for the next few months, whatever we discover at Tre-I mean, our, uh, destination…it will be worth it."

"_If_ we come across anything." Arrow prompted in a low voice. "I would not get ahead of oneself, Doctor."

My eyes shot from our financier to my second-in-command. The Doctor also shared my look of disbelief, with his jaw dropping slightly and eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline.

"You mean you weren't convinced by our map, Arrow?" I asked nonchalantly. From his reaction to the map, I had assumed that it went without saying that we had tumbled onto a rather interesting voyage.

Arrow almost looked surprised that I did not agree with him. "It was certainly unusual, ma'am but it could still all be some kind of cruel trick. Some kind of prank perhaps, and it is unusual that only Mr Hawkins is able to open the device…"

Doctor Doppler may have not cottoned onto Arrow's suggestions, but they did not slip past me. "I must admit that the thought has crossed my mind, but I doubt even someone with Mr Hawkins' talent for mechanics-"

The clatter of cutlery and the slosh of pepperpot announced that the Doctor had finally understood the unspoken accusations from Mr Arrow; he had slammed down his spoon with such ferocity, some of his supper spilt onto the table. "_Jim would never_-!"

"Calm yourself, Doctor." I snapped coldly. The canine was blushing furiously now, glowering at Arrow and myself, steam practically emitting from his ears. "As I was saying, even if it seems to be a mysterious coincidence that _only_ Mr Hawkins is able to understand and operate that device, I very much doubt that a teenage boy could create such an artifact."

The Doctor stopped with his glaring and looked at me stupidly. "You mean – you believe in the map too?"

"We are still travelling ahead on this journey, are we not?"

"Err- yes, but…I-I thought you wouldn't have a choice- "

"Even if this contract is held by the Royal Navy, Doctor, I am still an independent. If I truly believed this voyage would be a waste of my time and interest, I would simply forego the pay and return to Crescentia."

It seemed as though the Doctor's anger had melted away into disbelief. He tunnelled in on me, eyes wide. "So…you think we will find it then? You think it's real?"

To outwardly state that I believed in the existence of our destination would be rash, and without logical thought. From the evidence I had, I knew that the pirate Captain Flint did in fact exist, and that he did plunder many worlds and harvest himself a fortune in stolen goods. A thousand worlds is probably an exaggeration, but there is no doubt in his existence. But this planet, this loot?

"I believe that we will discover something on this voyage. Whereas we will find exactly what we expect, I am unsure. The thought that there is a mountain of gold somewhere out there, waiting for us, when Flint had a whole crew of greedy individuals like himself…it sounds too good to be true. But I am more interested in this map, its value to us as a piece of technology, and the purpose of the planet than I am interested in finding a fortune."

Riches mean nothing to me. I have enough of my own fortune, accumulated from prize money of ships that myself and my ancestors have captured in wartime. What I seek is not wealth, but answers, and satisfaction in knowing the truth.

Doctor Doppler tilted his head. "The purpose of the planet? What do you mean by that, Captain?"

"I want to know why this planet has a map that will hopefully lead us directly to it."

"But…surely it leads to the planet for the treasure? So that Flint would know where he stored it all?"

I shook my head. "That map could not have been created by pirates, especially when scholars and master engineers can hardly produce something so advanced. Someone else created that map to lead one to that planet…but for what reason?"

"So…the planet must be important for some other reason than the treasure." A complex frown formed on the Doctor's face, not one that I had seen before. Of course, he has often frowned in the past – frowned at my cutting remarks, frowned at space whales for covering him with ink, frowned at the cold weather on a morning watch. This was a different kind, one where I could see the cogs of his mind beginning to turn. His eyes were void of the usual hurt, and replaced with a shine of some kind of different emotion. For the briefest of seconds, I could almost see the side of Doctor Doppler as a scholar.

"Precisely." My lips curled into a smile. "Why would that planet in particular have a map of superior technology that leads directly to it, from every corner of this galaxy, when it so obviously outdates the planet's use? We are only interested in that planet because of the legends we have heard about it, and they are only around a century old. There is no conceivable way that a pirate made this map to that planet, so why in the Heavens was it created in the first place? What is so special about that planet that is has a millennia old map to its location?"

"So that planet has a function. It must have been known to many people, and used for other reasons, but somehow it was forgotten…until Flint found it. Maybe there is more than treasure there…but what?"

From there, we dived into a conversation about what lay ahead of us and what secrets we may uncover. There were many possibilities. We tried to exactly pinpoint how old the map was but then Doctor Doppler put forward the idea that maybe Flint and his pirates had tampered with it and that the map was just a navigational device designed to lead one all around known space. We even quickly debated if Flint would have the mind and understanding to do such a thing, and how one could even change the programming of robots so minute. Doctor Doppler admitted that he is no mechanic, and my own knowledge is limited to mechanisms such as cannons and firearms, so neither of us were able to come up with many hypotheses there. The conversation turned one again, and went down a different train of thought. As a result, the rest of supper was spent with the Doctor and I locked in an intense discussion about what we expected to find – lost technology, ruins perhaps, of a long-gone civilization. It sounds almost like a romanticised adventure novel and when the Doctor pointed this fact out, I did laugh, although I suppose there is the slimmest chance of it being true.

Supper passed in the blink of an eye, and before I knew it, Mr Arrow was clearing his throat for my attention.

"I am sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but it is nearly time for our rounds."

I glanced up at my clock – embarrassingly, I had not noticed the time. Inwardly, I cringed at my lack of awareness, but I tried not to show this to our financier. "I am afraid that we must leave this conversation there, Doctor. Mr Arrow and I cannot falter on our duties."

Respectfully, Doctor Doppler rose from his chair when I did, and drew his coat around him as a sign he was taking his leave. His chin had tilted down once it became clear supper was over, but he offered me a weak smile and assurances that he did not mind. Admittedly, I myself felt rather disappointed that our discussion had come to an end – but for some reason, I sought to rectify that.

"Shall we continue tomorrow, at lunch?"

The Doctor froze with one arm in the sleeve of his coat, his head jerking upright to meet my eyes. Even Arrow looked at me incredulously. I myself could hardly believe I had made the invitation, and apparently neither could the Doctor as he seemed to search me for some kind of sign that it was a cruel joke. I kept my face still and hid my own surprise at my actions.

"O-of course, Captain."

I nodded. "Stellar. Tomorrow then. At noon. Mr Arrow, you will join us, of course?"

Arrow's response was halting. I suddenly came to the realisation that Arrow had hardly said a word once Doctor Doppler and I began to talk about Treasure Planet. "A-aye ma'am."

"Well then, we shall continue this tomorrow gentlemen." I stated and strode right out of my cabin.

Once Doctor Doppler had descended below decks to prepare for our watch and Arrow and I had the bridge to ourselves, my old friend pulled me aside for a private word before we both went our separate ways. "You must know, Captain, that you were not obligated to invite the Doctor to another meal, at least for not some time further down the voyage?"

"Of course I am aware, but I still have questions and it is hardly a topic one can engage in on deck." I replied rather abruptly.

Arrow retreated quickly at my response. "Of course, ma'am. I must be getting on with my inspection." He touched his hat respectfully and we both departed the bridge to begin our rounds.

In reality, however, I have surprised myself with this action. As I inspected the ship, I tried to recall a moment where I have invited a financier to another meal almost immediately after the 'complimentary' dinner with the Captain but the only ones that came to mind were certain officers from various armed forces with whom I had much in common. Doctor Doppler and I share no such qualities nor experiences.

But there is no harm in it, surely? What does it truly matter? There is no shame in wanting to continue a conversation.

Maybe it is just because the idea of being trapped in another conversation with Doctor Doppler so obviously repulsed me this morning, that it fails to make sense in my mind that I would actively seek one out.

But that is Arrow's fault – if he was more willing to theorise, maybe I would be more satisfied with sharing my thoughts with only him. Yet he seems bored with such a topic, and was rather exasperated by my questioning yesterday at lunch. On the other hand, Doctor Doppler seems to share my curiosity and made for a rather refreshing conversation partner.

This thought caused me to pause during my inspection and smirk. First, he names stars on sight and he writes for the Shipping Forecast, then he makes a rather contrite apology, now he entertains me with our conversation at dinner enough for me to seek another.

If this man keeps surprising me, we are going to have some issues.


	6. The Storm

**AN: Due to this lockdown, I have had time to redraft the previous chapters and some changes have been made. For example, the argument between Amelia and Doppler in Chapter 2 has been expanded a bit more as I was not completely satisfied with it. Also, as a disclaimer, the science in this chapter may not be completely accurate (I did my best but science has never been my strong point, but also this is a universe where space is breathable so I have taken some liberties) - and again, thank you for all the reviews, favourites, and follows. They are much appreciated! **

Date: 006.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, the Magellan Current.

Unfortunately, the storm has reached us quicker than I anticipated.

The winds have dropped noticeably overnight, especially during my watch with Doctor Doppler. Eventually, I felt the ship slow beneath my feet as the sails began to lose the wind. Regrettably, the anemometer confirmed my suspicions: the approaching storm had weakened the winds of the current. Unlike most wisps of clouds, meteorological storms carry their own winds, and bring such a dramatic drop in atmospheric pressure that they have the ability to bring currents to a near stand-still and crawl up contradictory to the current's flow. They are disastrous to the progress of a voyage, and already the effects of our own impending tempest were beginning to slow us down.

I turned in to bed with a disappointed heart. I had been hoping we would be lucky enough to have a few days before encountering the storm, enough to squeeze in a few more practice rounds of battening down the hatches. During my inspection last night, I was satisfied with the riggers' work securing the yards and with the knots at the lifelines but, by Arrow's word, there is room for improvement when covering the hatches. According to him, the crew's work is sloppy and completed at a rather leisurely pace. It is not the report I wanted to hear as I intend to keep us at full sail and ventilation for as long as I possibly can. Without the time to drill the procedure in, it looks as though I will have to change that plan and batten down the hatches sooner than I anticipated, losing us precious time.

With the winds changing so soon, I am expecting the storm to be upon us around noon. I have roused the crew early in order to give us thirty extra precious minutes to organise ourselves for the coming storm.

I just hope that it is enough time for us to be fully prepared.

* * *

It has been a rather long, and tense morning.

The storm's approach is imminent as made obvious by the conventional signs: the barometer has been steadily dropping points all morning, the winds are unusually calm for a current, and the morning sky is tinged red.

I have been eyeing the red sky with suspicion all morning, even while I was having my breakfast in my cabin. My stomach has been quivering with unease all morning and therefore I found it rather difficult to stomach my meal. Still, I forced myself to eat it as it will be the last hot one I will have until this blasted storm is over, seeing as I had sent the order to Mr Silver to douse the galley's fire straight after breakfast. After that, I could barely stay sitting in my cabin so the moment I was done, I headed out onto the bridge in search for a distraction.

Arrow was stood near the helm and I decided to join him. We exchanged a nod and stood with our hands clasped behind our backs. Mr Onus, our lookout, was positioned in the crow's nest. Below us, the ropers were practicing with the tarpaulin to cover the hatches and above us, the riggers continuing to secure the yards. The sails remained unfurled, seizing as much of the dying wind as they could. Despite everything, the glimmering white material against the blushing hues of the sky made for a rather eye-catching sight.

A red sky always puts one into a rather melancholy mood. Seeing one always reminds me of my father, and his silly spacer sayings, of which he never believed but used to pretend to in order to tease me. One of my fondest memories of him includes me as a child, whistling a tune, and he feigning fear and making over-exaggerated attempts for me to stop because it was 'bad luck'. Eventually I had to stop whistling because I was laughing too much. He said that spacers believed that whistling would cause the winds to turn, and therefore it was unlucky. It was so ridiculous to me that it never failed to bring peals of laughter from me.

But a red sky is one of the few superstitions my father seemed to take seriously. The saying goes,

_Red sky at night, spacer's delight. Red sky in morning, spacer's warning._

To translate, spacers take a red sky as a sign of a drastic change in weather. If the sky turns red at twilight, then the next day should be glorious and the scenery would put the whole crew into a good mood. However, a red sky at dawn is a sign of foul weather and sends most naval captains on alert to batten down hatches and douse the galley's fire.

Arrow, of course, says it all to be nonsense.

Standing at the bridge, I shot Arrow look, wondering if he was thinking of the same rhyme as I was while we both stared outward at the horizon. Mischievously, I decided to amuse myself one last time before this storm puts me in a foul, wretched mood. Therefore, I decided to taunt my second-in-command. "Looks like our morning is red, Mr Arrow."

Arrow sighed and his broad shoulders slumped in passive frustration. "Indeed, ma'am." He grumbled, lowering his eyes to meet mine. He was less than impressed to see me impishly grinning. "I will still argue that something as variable as a _red sunrise _should not be used to predict the unforeseen weather, even if we have received a _reliable_ warning in the form of Captain Marsh."

My friend Arrow is usually a man of patience. However, we all have our limits and Arrow's seem to reach their end when it comes to omens. It is rather amusing to watch as it is so rare for Arrow to get riled up at something so insignificant. I hardly ever see a reaction from him as he is famously always so stoic. While I used to laugh and play along with my father's childish game of playing the superstitious spacer, Arrow's disapproval would compel him to bite the bait and argue for the sake of arguing. Sometimes I believe that my father was never happier than when he could prove to the galaxy that his old friend Mr Arrow was not just an emotionless boulder of a man.

Therefore, when the chance occurs, I like to try and continue the tradition.

"Yet you have not been able to tear your eyes away from the sky all morning." I added innocently after Arrow's decisive statement. "Are you sure that you haven't come to believe in the omen after all your years of spacing?"

Well, maybe there is a tad of an inner motive. Besides, thoughts about this storm had been plaguing me all night – if there is one person aboard who is most likely to unburden my mind, it is Arrow.

Mr Arrow clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Your great-grandfather would never have stood for such nonsense. He saw them for what omens truly are – the product of overactive minds bored with cabin fever. To see you and your father stand by such things would have caused him great shame."

"Oh, come now, Arrow, that is a trifle too much. You know full well that father and I only pretended to believe such foolery to tease you." I said. Arrow always acted as though he was personally wounded by my family's little game. "Besides, there is actually some science behind that little saying, you know?"

"Must you continue tormenting me, ma'am?"

"I am being serious. There was once a seminar on the subject while I was at the Academy. The professor said that a red morning sky signifies a high-pressure air mass and such high pressure in the morning indicates that the system is moving on, meaning that low-pressure weather systems are likely to move in to replace them. And what does a low-pressure weather system often lead to?"

Mr Arrow grumbled his answer. "Poor weather, ma'am."

I grinned wickedly. "Precisely. Storms, wet and windy weather. You would believe the barometer if it told you there was low air pressure and you would trust it and prepare the ship for less than perfect weather. A red dawn indicates the same results. Are you sure you never attended a seminar on air pressure systems, Arrow?"

"You are fully aware that there was no such academy when I was at such an age, ma'am." He said with a sigh. "And I do not care for this game you are playing. It was not amusing when your father played it, and it is no more amusing now with you. Please, Captain, spare an old man your ruthless teasing. The barometer is a trusted piece of technology essential to spacers everywhere. Red skies contain mostly of guesswork and it would be irresponsible for a fine captain like yourself to rely on such methods."

"I do not _rely_ on such methods; I am just saying that maybe there is an explanation as to why such a belief exists. And besides, if there was no conceivable way to use a barometer, would it not be best to try and use your surroundings to aid your decisions as a spacer? Would it be wise to ignore dark storm clouds just because the barometer is yet to drop a few points? If you were lost and your compass was broken, would you refuse to navigate using the stars because they are not 'trusted pieces of technology."

Mr Arrow turned away with a huff of impatience but as he turned, he must have caught sight of Doctor Doppler as he was emerging from below deck for our forenoon watch because suddenly, he called out to him. "Ah, Doctor Doppler! A moment, if you will?"

At this I turned slightly too to see Doctor Doppler look up, baffled with wide eyes. He was cleaning his spectacles with a piece of cloth and nearly dropped both in surprise. It was rather difficult not to smirk at his obvious apprehension as he hesitantly approached Mr Arrow and I on the bridge. I believe I might have scared him with my expression, but I was in no means laughing at our financier. Truly, I was laughing at Arrow's attempt to drag the poor man into the discussion just to prove me wrong.

Nevertheless, the good Doctor joined us rather awkwardly at the helm, uneasily shifting his eyes between Arrow and I while pocketing his cloth. "Of course- Captain, Mr Arrow. Err, how can I help?"

"What is your opinion on red skies, Doctor?"

Doctor Doppler blinked and looked at Mr Arrow incredulously. "Well…I…think they're rather pretty-"

"Mr Arrow means in an astrophysical sense, Doctor." I tried to purse my lips together to hide my smile. "We were conversing about how spacers use a red morning sky as an omen for impending bad weather and we wondering if there is any truth in such a belief?"

At this, Doctor Doppler's gaze softened. "Oh-uh-well, in that case," the Doctor replied, adjusting his spectacles and clearing his throat. "The reddening of skies during dusk or dawn is due to an affect called Rayleigh Scattering, which was named after Lord Rayleigh who theorised the affect in two papers based off another affect called the Tyndall's effect, but Rayleigh's work explained how blue rays of light are more easily deflected by particles in denser atmospheres due to its length and wave frequency, and is more likely to reach our eyes in lighter atmospheres like in space."

"Which explains why the sky is blue." I said.

Doctor Doppler met my eyes and nodded. "Precisely. So when blue light tries to travel through atmospheres with a higher particle density, it is scattered several times more and is more easily deflected away from our eyes. Therefore, there is more yellow and red light waves reaching us as due to their longer wavelength, they are not so easily deflected. Thus in higher air pressures, the sky appears to turn pink or orange or red. Like on Pelsinor, many believe that the reason for the planet's constantly orange sky is due to the numerous stars in its system but actually, it's because the atmosphere there has a far higher air pressure than seen on other planets."

I was not aware of that fact and my ears perked up considerably at this new-found knowledge. To me, the planet always seemed to be locked in a constant sunset – red and purple skies, pink clouds, and such. I had, as Doctor Doppler said, assumed that this was due to the many close-stars that appeared in its sky because there was always one sinking towards its horizon. I just never thought to piece these facts together with my teachings at the Academy. I raised an eyebrow, inwardly impressed. Doctor Doppler must have noticed my reaction to this news because his gaze seemed to linger on mine for a brief time.

"But that is a _planet_'s atmosphere, surely the same cannot be said here in space?" Mr Arrow argued, still clinging to his firm beliefs.

"True, the Etherium typically has a lower density atmosphere but it is changing all the time. Particles and visible light are constantly shifted around with tidal winds and jet streams and currents, that no one part of space is the same as another. It is constantly ebbing and flowing and changing, every day." Doctor Doppler continued. "So…I guess why not?"

I noticed that gleam in his eye again, the same spark that shone during our conversation about the map. He must truly be very passionate about his work – which must have made my insult to it a few days earlier sting all the more. Thinking about it now makes me wince. It was truly a low blow to deliver.

"And what about using a red sky to foretell the weather? Spacers take a red morning sky as a sign of bad weather but if there is a red sky in the evening, it foretells the opposite." I asked, even though I knew the answer. "Exactly how does that work?"

Doctor Doppler's brow furrowed in thought. "Well," He raised a hand to rub his chin. "I suppose is really depends on which way you are travelling. Winds in this part of the Etherium tend to blow westerly, so they carry the high pressure systems with them. If we are seeing a red sky during the morning like we are now, then it would make sense to assume that the high pressure is already moving east and leaving us behind in a lower pressured system. The same can't be said in other areas of the galaxy, of course, but for us I would say it is a reasonable assumption to say that we should expect some poorer weather."

I shot Arrow a smug look. He met my eyes with cold annoyance.

Doctor Doppler, meanwhile, rocked back innocently on his heels. "I…hope I have been of some use to your conversation."

"Certainly, Doctor." Mr Arrow lifted a hand to touch his hat. "If I may, ma'am, I believe the crew could benefit from some closer observation."

With the conversation over, I resigned to let Mr Arrow to leave the bridge, watching his red coat retreat from our battle of beliefs. Later, he will act as though this conversation never happened and I will let it slide because I only truly do it to see a little reaction from my ever-so enduring first mate.

Turning back to the horizon, I smiled contently with my victory while I was busy unhooking my spyglass from my belt. However, Doctor Doppler had not moved and was watching Mr Arrow leave with a frown. "Oh dear – I, uh, I hope I haven't…offended Mr Arrow in any way."

"Of course not, Doctor. Mr Arrow and I sought your professional opinion and he is just a bit miffed that you have proved me right." I said, scanning the horizon in search for those approaching storm clouds. "He will not hold that against you."

"Um…miffed?" He asked uncertainly.

"Annoyed. Peeved but in a harmless sense. You see, Mr Arrow has a long-standing loathing for omens and superstitions. Sometimes I think they're the reason he chose to be a marine instead of a spacer in the Royal Navy. We were having a conversation about the red sky when I mentioned that there is some science that could prove them to be a valid way of predicting the weather, and of course Mr Arrow's beliefs caused him to deny that could ever be the case."

"You already knew, then? About Rayleigh Scattering and all that?"

I snapped my spyglass shut and gave Doctor Doppler an awry smile. "Not as in depth as you do, I am sure, but there was once an elective lecture about red skies I decided to drop in to during my time at the Interstellar Academy. It did not teach much in the ways of handling a ship, but it was rather interesting, nonetheless."

Doctor Doppler tilted his head to one side and cocked an ear. "Oh? So…you studied at the Interstellar Academy?"

"I did indeed."

"Oh," He continued. "It-uh- must have been a very…err, _interesting_ place to learn."

I tensed instinctively. It was probably how the Doctor posed the statement as a conversation starter, an opening to an in-depth conversation about our educations which would inevitably lead to our childhoods and our home-lives. Like many respectable commanding officers, I prefer to keep my private life completely absent from my work and any attempt by others to learn more about me are quickly shot down, so to speak. No one needs to know any of my personal details for this voyage to be satisfactorily concluded, so why bother handing them out willy-nilly?

"It was."

There was a pause as Doctor Doppler patiently waited for me to elaborate but I simply started tapping details of wind speeds and current strengths into the automatic log at the controls. It may seem silly to some why I should choose to withhold such information from the Doctor, but I am a naturally private person and I would rather my clients did not know such things. This is a strictly professional relationship, after all. I do not want my clients to hear stories of how I used to take skiffs for joyrides as a teenager, or unleash farm animals onto campus as a prank.

"How long did you study there?" The Doctor asked.

"Three years precisely." I replied. Again, there was a pause for me to continue talking about my education, but I kept my tongue still. Why in the name of Heaven would Doctor Doppler be so interested in such things?

The awkward silence was ironically saved by Mr Silver, who emerged down from the galley with his usual chipper attitude. He approached the bridge while wiping his hands in his apron and grinned up at me with a gap-toothed smile. "Galley's fire is out, Cap'n, ma'am, jus' as you ordered!" He called up and bowed.

I gave a stiff nod in return. "Very good. Take Mr Hawkins and yourself down into the hold, Mr Silver, and start securing the stores. I will be along shortly to inspect your work."

The cyborg bowed again and slunk off back down into the galley. Meanwhile, I stood up a little straighter and called for Mr Turnbuckle to mind the helm. "I must be leaving, Doctor. I have a ship to prepare before our watch and you should be securing your own personal belongings. Travelling through a storm can get rather rough and I doubt you would want anything of yours to break."

Doctor Doppler took the dismissal with a rather blank expression, mumbled a 'Yes, Captain' and quickly made himself scarce. I, meanwhile, descended from the bridge to fully inspect Mr Silver's work in the galley.

* * *

I was pleased to find that Mr Silver and his cabin boy have done a bang-up job cooking up whatever foods they can in preparation for the storm ahead. Rice has been boiled and stored, as have some eggs ready to be served for tonight's dinner. For the next few days, there is some cooked meats that will have to be served cold. I commended Mr Silver on his idea of peeling and dicing some vegetables as well, so there would not be any accidents with knives if the ship is truly about to be thrown around the current like a toy boat in a bath. A wise decision, even if I am concerned that the vegetables may spoil quicker now they have been peeled and cut up, but I am sure Mr Silver must know more about the foodstuff than I. He is the cook after all.

But for some reason, I kept wondering about Doctor Doppler's interest in my education while I was trying to concentrate on my final inspections. After some pondering on the idea, I have concluded that he must just be curious about the credentials of whom he has employed (even though, it is technically the Navy's fault that I am here and not his). Maybe he is considering hiring me for future work, or recommending me to someone looking for a suitable captain. Therefore, it might not be the worst idea to share a few positive aspects of my career and education with him. It could be good for business – but only information about studies and qualifications. Nothing about my tricks or antics as a teenager, and certainly nothing about my family history, despite it being as impressive as it is from a space-faring viewpoint.

Maybe I will bring it up at lunch.

* * *

Lunch, unfortunately, did not happen.

The storm was finally spotted in the far distance about thirty minutes before. The whole crew were on deck, waiting anxiously. I took the moment to try and read them to see their reaction to our obstacle. I would not say that they looked nervous – more irritated that the storm was impending our progress. They were grumbling and lurking together in small groups, waiting for the inevitable order to batten down the hatches and reef the sails. Bad weather is never liked by spacers, and I doubt the early wake-up call had put them in a good mood either. Their work, however, had been steadily improving this morning. They were rather tardy to begin with, but I think they have gotten into the rhythm of it.

When Mr Onus finally called down from the crow's nest at eleven thirty hundred hours that he could see storm clouds ahead, there was a cacophony of many spyglasses simultaneously being uncapped. Even Doctor Doppler had emerged from his cabin, telescope in tow. I raised my own with cold feeling in my chest but could not see anything just yet, so I left the bridge in Mr Arrow's care and climbed up to the crow's nest myself for the better viewpoint. There, I could work out just a smudge of grey in the distance.

"Our tempest approaches," I breathed with a sigh to Arrow as I arrived back on the bridge. "It's coming straight up the current as we feared. One last inspection, please, Mr Arrow. On your return, we will batten down the hatches – so long as you are satisfied."

Arrow hurried away to complete my orders. While I waited, I watched the crew below as they whispered between themselves, throwing glances over their shoulders at the storm. Mr Silver and Mr Hawkins had also made an appearance from the galley and were both standing near the bowsprit. Mr Silver had handed a spyglass to his cabin boy and was pointing to the fast approaching clouds in the distance. I was wondering to myself just how far Mr Silver's cyborg eye could see when Arrow reappeared at my side.

"Hurricane lamps attached to the bowsprit and all shrouds, port and starboard sides ma'am. All in working order. Stores are adequately stowed, the yards and the lifelines are secure. Galley's fire is out. Food provisions safely locked in waterproof holds."

I nodded. There was only one last thing to do. A dozen eyes were staring up at me, but I kept my face emotionless. It was like the whole ship was holding its breath. I waited a moment, savouring it. I really do enjoy being in command of my own ship.

"Well then, Mr Arrow," I said finally. "Give the order, if you please."

Arrow turned and took a big gulp of air. "_All hands to stations_!"

And just like that, the stillness of the ship was broken. The deck came alive with scurrying creatures. The riggers shot up the ropes like rats while the ropers scrambled to their stations and were already reaching for the tarpaulin before Mr Arrow had even gave the order. This made my lips twitch downward – a sign of a lack of discipline, even if well-intentioned. They may be fed up with all the practice Mr Arrow and I have put them through this morning, but rushing ahead of orders is not the right way to go about it. _From one extreme to the other, _I thought bitterly.

"Batten down those hatches, men! On the double!"

By the time Mr Arrow had given the order, the chocks were already being placed. Once this storm is over, we will have to drill the crew again – this time with longer intervals of waiting between orders and at any sign of someone jumping ahead, we will start the exercise all over. Moving ahead of anticipated orders may seem innocent enough when battening down hatches, but when it comes to handling the cannons or working in the tops, it can sometimes have disastrous consequences. I remember when I was at the Academy, completing similar drills myself and wondering why it was so important so await the order (it simply felt like dawdling to me) but in practice, the perfect timing can allow the ship to out-manoeuvre other ships. With a well-disciplined crew, the commanding officer can carry out any plan they have without having to explain it in great detail, therefore losing precious time. If we are to continue on this voyage and sail through the Oort Cloud at Epsilon, I will need the crew to listen, wait, and obey every command.

Next, the sails were taken in. With the wind blowing directly towards us, they were no use to keep unfurled and were then secured tightly to the masts with some extra ropework; the last thing a captain would want in the middle of a storm would be for a sail to come loose and unfurl in the high winds and rain. It happened once when I was a Lieutenant and it was a nightmare to tie it back down. Once the weather had passed and were able to properly assess the damage, the whole sail had to be replaced due to split solar cells in the fabric from thrashing against the mast and spars repeatedly. That and replacing some frayed rigging reduced the ship's solar capacity. Of course, the captain of the ship blamed me for a not ensuring that my division had securely tied the sails down, and he did not take it kindly when I reminded him that he had turned down _my_ request for some extra rope, brushing it off as 'unnecessary'. That earned me the loss of a week's worth of rum, but I refused to be blamed for a mishap that_ I_ tried to avoid.

Nevertheless, I always double the securing of sails in storms and I am happy to say that I have never had a loose sail since.

With the operation over, I climbed aloft myself to check the crew's work while Arrow stayed on the bridge with a spyglass trained on the horizon. As I was climbing up the shrouds, I took a quick side glance at the horizon. The storm was fast-approaching; what moments ago was barely a visible grey smudge was now dark fingers reaching for us from the horizon. It must be huge to appear so large while simultaneously travelling so fast. Within the hour, they would envelop us completely and I would need my raincoat to keep dry. Times like that made me wish I still had my own personal steward again – someone who would bring my coat out to me a few seconds before the rain would fall and arrive to take it away again the moment the weather cleared. Such luxuries of being a true naval Captain have been lost to me.

Ten minutes later I returned to the deck, satisfied with the crew's work. The sails were bound tight and the knots firm. "Dismiss the crew for an early lunch, Mr Arrow." I ordered, watching the storm with some concern. "And inform them that we will be doubling the watch-cycle at noon. In clouds as dark as those, we will need extra pairs of eyes. Once we are out of this storm, we will return to the old cycle."

"Straight eight hour shifts ma'am, or an intermittent watch?" Mr Arrow asked.

"Intermittent – every watchman will take the next watch off after their shift for a break, then come back for the next one."

This meant that while I had the first watch with Doctor Doppler, we will now also be joining Arrow and Mr Scroop for their morning watch. Even though I will be sharing a shift with my closest friend, I do despise the idea of having to stand outside in a downpour for an extra watch per day but unfortunately, needs must. I can hardly ask the crew to do something that I am not willing to do myself.

But I do detest the rain. I am a feline after all.

Arrow touched his hat and darted off, shouting commands as he went, while I began to turn to Doctor Doppler to properly explain the change to our watch cycle to him. During all this, he was stood a little off from the bridge, watching in polite silence. On the inside, I had braced myself for another row when I explained about our extra shift this afternoon, but rather than kicking up a fuss like he had previously done, he took the clarification with a rather defeated response.

"I suppose it's for the best." He said with a toneless voice and a bitter smile. "Although I am not looking forward to standing in the rain for such a long time and with only four hours of sleep in the night..."

"Neither am I, Doctor." I replied honestly. "But we all have to play our part aboard this ship. And…I am afraid I will have to cancel our lunch – I cannot leave the deck until we have truly settled into this storm. You and Mr Arrow are welcome to continue in the wardroom, of course, but – between us – I don't believe he was as invested in the topic as you and I."

The Doctor gave a slight shrug and lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck. His bitter smile persisted, and he looked away. "I thought as much but – I understand. Another time, maybe."

Something about his response caused my stomach to clench- or maybe it was my unease with the storm. "Another time." I said.

With that, we continued to watch the approaching tempest in silence. The deck was empty as the crew swarmed down to the galley for their lunch. Mr Arrow touched his hat and also descended down to the wardroom. Doctor Doppler and I stood alone on the bridge, watching the dark clouds grow larger and larger. By the time the Doctor decided to leave too, the wind was beginning to pick up – but these were not the winds of the Magellan Current.

These were the winds of our storm.

* * *

Captain Marsh was correct; this is a rather _nasty _storm.

I was still on deck when raindrops began to fall. There was a distant booming, rolling from the clouds like an echo – thunder, but no sign of any lightning as the clouds crept closer and closer to our bows. It was not until they loomed before us like a great wall of dark mist that I finally began to appreciate its size. The sight of such massive clouds so close to my ship almost took my breath away; from the bridge looking up, it felt like I was standing beneath a great wave, about to be consumed. My chest felt weighted, even though I knew we were fully prepared to face what was before us.

A memory surfaced in my mind. I was very small and up to my waist in sea water. My father was on shore leave and he was teaching me to swim, but the waves that barely reached my father's thighs were cresting above my head and were filling my mouth and nose with horrible salty water. I believe I may have begun crying. My father soon had his hands hooked under my arms and was lifting me out of danger. _Sometimes Amelia_, he said, _you just have to dive straight on through_.

I've travelled through a million storms before. This one will be no different.

_You have no time to doubt yourself. Take the plunge. _

"Keep us straight, Mr Turnbuckle." I ordered to our helmsman, looking down at the various dials on the control board. The barometer was still dropping while the anemometer was shooting up. A gust nearly took my hat and I slammed my hand down on my head to keep it still. "Our bows must remain pointing _into_ the winds."

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Mr Turnbuckle replied, wrapping another tentacle or two around the spokes of the helm to keep them steady.

The masts were beginning to yawn and protest, more so than they do in usual bad weather. My eyes darted up to them, but they were holding steady as they always have. Suddenly, a chill fell and my face began to numb. I wiped the splattering rain droplets from consoles' screens with my hands, trying my best to keep an eye on their readings. Our sonar-map was reading an incredibly high mass amount of cloud. The sight of it caused my heart to sink. It has been years since I have been forced to sail through a storm so large. I am sure we will unfortunately be lost in it for a few days. The winds are high, pushing against us as well. We will have to keep our thrusters working to push us through but it won't be long before we are forced the drop the space anchor. For now, we will have to keep the bows pointing into the winds.

Our progress will be impended but, there is little more I can do. To try and go around will be impossible due to the storm's size and winds. To try and close-haul or even close-reach the ship could result in damaged sails and delay us even further. To risk even turning the ship slightly against the winds may be enough to turn us and leave us foundering if the weather worsens still.

The best we can do is to take the plunge and keep going.

There was another low rumble of thunder and the_ Legacy_ finally pushed in through the mists. The clear skies behind us soon vanished. It was not long until the spacer's most feared omen of all made its appearance. From the tips of the spars danced long flashes of violet plasma, known as St. Elmo's Fire – a sure sign of a thunderstorm. The lamps attached to the bows lit up brightly, allowing for sight around deck. A squall of cold rain fell hard and fast, spurred on by the whistling winds. I was soaked through and a small waterfall had formed off the points of my hat. These were little bothers though; I was far too concerned with reading the consoles than to care. Thankfully, all seemed well at least. The stress on the ship was not bad for a storm this size, and our current cruising speed was enough to keep us inching ahead. To push it any further may over-burn the engines.

"Mr Arrow!" I called.

A familiar red coat soon appeared by the mizzenmast. "Reporting ma'am!"

"Have Mr Meltdown start up the bilge pumps!"

Already the deck was sodden, and puddles were beginning to form on the mid-deck. All the water would eventually drain downwards, and I did not want to run the risk of the stores getting a soaking even if they were adequately secured. Luckily, bilge pumps these days can be mechanically left running rather than be manned by two at a time. However, it gives our mechanic and engineer some extra work to their stations. That might be a blessing – a crew stuck beneath deck often turn idle and sulky. Their foul moods turn to brawls and other unsavoury ways to keep themselves entertained. Once, a crew of mine had turned to fighting the ship's bilge rats together in a ring and betting on the outcomes. Despicable behaviour, even if they had been stuck in their berths for nearly two weeks.

Hopefully, it will not come to that here.

As for now, the ship is fighting against this storm and we are continuing forward. The deeper we penetrate, the darker our surroundings become. I am hoping we reach the eye soon, but I believe it will be a few days before we are running clear. There is not much I can do but wait and watch.

Speaking of watching, I am due out for the first watch in an hour. Most of my day has been spent on deck and I have been trying to dry myself off as much as I can before braving the rain again. So much so that I have even reverted to heating up the small radiator in my quarters. My coat will end up smelling damp, but I suppose it is better than heading out onto watch with an already saturated coat. I missed lunch but if it is anything like my supper, I am grateful to have skipped it. Supper has been a cold bowl of rice with two boiled eggs, a slice of cold meat (some kind of pork I believe) and a few diced greenleaves. Miserably cold and measly but I have lived off such meals for years; I will quickly adapt after only a few days of rich cheese and fresh hot stews.

I just hope all this exposure and lack of warmth does not bring on a chill.

* * *

Thinking about it, this voyage must truly be cursed.

First we head out with a crew full of prattling oafs, and our financier appears to be not much better. Then Doctor Doppler and I are at loggerheads for much of the beginning, and just when I believe we might be moving past that, the whole ship is thrown into the middle of a storm.

Since my last update, the winds have picked up considerably. So much so that I have to reduce our speed in fear of over-working the engines as we push on. It won't be much longer before we are forced to drop the space anchor and wait for the storm to move through us. The rudder is stressed but nothing it cannot handle. The whole woodwork of the ship is screaming in protest against these winds, but I am sure she will hold. As for the pumps, they are working beautifully and what I have managed to inspect of our rigging is holding. As Arrow has decided to be a dear and volunteer to join my watch for a few hours, I decided to climb up aloft myself and to stay there for as long as I can. That way, if there is any issues with the sails, I will be at hand immediately. Arrow, to my chagrin, protested that it was too dangerous.

"Arrow," I said sternly. "I used to run a whole division of riggers and top-men. I can work my way around the tops just fine – even in a storm like this."

His eyes dropped down to my feet, but he knew better than to vocally point out my choice of footwear. Many may find running along spars and ratlines in a pair of high-heeled boots to be reckless, but I have never had any trouble. Besides, they make me taller. I refuse to wear anything else.

With Arrow watching the helm for me, I took to the shrouds while they were being shoved about in the atrocious weather and bucking like an untamed stallion. I had to keep a tighter grip on the rope than usual in order to not be thrown from them. Doctor Doppler watched with a white face, wearing some kind of oil-skinned bucket hat and matching overcoat. Arrow was stood at his station on the bridge, also watching with disapproval. I completed a quick inspection (the best I could do in the circumstances) and decided to spend the rest of the watch on the platform by the main mast's course sails. I would have preferred to be in the crow's nest but, if lightning is to strike, the highest point of the ship would not be a safe place to be.

Alas, the watch went by uneventful – cold, wet, and frightfully miserable but blissfully, blissfully uneventful. Not one issue with the rigging. The ship, while under considerable strain, is holding herself together. The storm, however, is not easing up any time soon but could get worse at a moment's notice.

I won't be sleeping easy tonight at any rate. Probably not even for the next few days. A simple rainstorm would not trouble me so, but the ever-consistent roaring of thunder just proves how devastating this storm could be. We have yet to see any lightning but the deeper we travel into this storm, the louder the thunder rumbles and therefore, the closer we must be getting to the lightning. If we are lucky, we won't have any interference with the electrics.

Sure enough, as our watch ended, it was time to drop the space anchor. The engines were wearing out and we had cut through this storm as much as we could. Now all we could do was sit and wait for it to pass over us instead.

But what I would give just for a hot meal right now. After such a wet and dreary day, nothing would please me more but unfortunately, the situation will not allow it. While my supper was filling, it was not as satisfying as a hot bowl of stew would be with some warm loves of fresh bread. However, judging from the way my plate slid up and down my desk earlier with the roll of the ship, maybe stew would not have been the best meal after all.

For now, I have turned in for what can only be a few, short hours of rest. The morning watch begins at zero four hundred hours, and after that I will try and keep myself awake for as long as I can. Luckily for me, the teams swap their shifts tomorrow. Doctor Doppler and I will be taking the middle watch (no doubt the Doctor will struggle with that one) and the forenoon watch, so I will be able to snatch a few extra hours of sleep tomorrow night. But if my past experiences of spacing through storms are anything to go by, nothing much will truly happen. We have taken every measure to avoid any problem and for that, I predict the next few days are bound to consist of myself, sat in my stateroom, bored out of my mind.

It is sure to be a few boring days of standing still.


	7. Remedy

Date: 009.070.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, the Magellan Bridge Shipping Route, the Magellan Current.

What a blasted, miserable existence.

If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is sitting idle on a ship. For the past two days, this poor weather has restricted the crew to below deck, meaning the usual bustle of a ship has moved down into their quarters and the galley – places where I as the commanding officer cannot go. Of course, a captain can go anywhere about their own ship, but protocol dictates that certain officers cannot simply go mingling with the common crew. I do not wish to invade their sanctum as long as their behaviour remains acceptable and does not get out of hand. But with the crew confined below decks, it has left me with holes in my schedule.

While I still have my usual duties to perform, there are only so many inspections one can carry out in a single day. On the first day fighting this tempest, I checked the rigging four times alone and I was already getting rather tired of braving the rain and battling the wind. Plus, we have been at anchor for two days and our course was already plotted which left me with very little navigation to do. I was continuously checking that we had not drifted with the storm, but I only needed to glance at the electrical ship's compass and space anchor status to see our co-ordinates have not changed. Once this storm passes and I can see the stars again, I will be able to chart our spot myself manually but with nothing around us but black clouds, navigation is pretty pointless at this time. As such, my ship-keeping hours are rather freed up – all I can do is consistently check over the ship and ensure she is weathering this storm.

This has left me with a lot of free time in my cabin. To remedy myself of boredom, I have spent most of it cleaning my collections of firearms or polishing my boots. I grew so restless that at one point I even unpacked my dress uniform and gave it a press with an iron just for something to do – and all this was during the first damned day!

As for the ship, I couldn't have hoped for her to be in any better shape in a storm like this. Although the winds are rough, she has been holding herself together rather well. I have had Mr Meltdown and Mr Snuff stationed at the bilge pumps so there are no issues there. The pumps have been running wonderfully, ejecting any deluge over the sides of the ship in sprays of mist, so I am not worried about the ship flooding just yet. During the first day, to keep the rest of the crew as busy as possible, I had them clean the innards of the ship. There was a lot of grumbling and complaints, but I cannot have the crew laying in their hammocks through this whole event. Mr Arrow and I had the joy of overseeing the work and we split the crew into two, taking one half of the ship each. As I already hold the ship's cleanliness at a high standard, there was little work to begin with. The pipes and wires were dusted, floors swept, and gratings oiled, but there was nothing in desperate need of a deep clean. I dismissed the crew for lunch while I inspected their work, and was satisfied.

Once again I was left to my own devices, and to amuse myself, I made my way down to the wardroom just before lunch. Mr Arrow reassured me during his report that morning that Doctor Doppler would not be there; with the ship fighting the winds of this storm, his spacesickness had returned, so once I reached the door to the wardroom, I strode in without so much as a knock. There was Arrow, sat at the table writing up his report by a porthole window with an electrical lamp for light. He glanced up when I entered then returned to his writing.

"Captain," He greeted warmly. "How is the starboard side of the ship?"

"Dusted and cob-web free. As for on the whole, little weather-beaten but holding herself together nicely." I said as I sat in the chair opposite him. "I thought I would pop in before visiting Doctor Doppler."

Mr Arrow raised the crags that formed his surrogate eyebrows but did not lift his eyes from the paper. His fountain pen kept scribbling away. "You mean visiting me is not the sole purpose of your descent below decks? I am disappointed, ma'am."

"Of course you are, Arrow, but I do have some business to take care of." I said while giving my second in command an awry smile. "I just wanted to check on our financier's spacesickness. If he is far too ill then I will have to let him stay in his cabin rather than stand watch tonight."

Arrow hummed approvingly. "Quite right ma'am. Doctor Doppler was very shaky during this morning. Although, maybe he is just recovering from watching you swinging around the rigging in such turbulent weather."

"He did look as though he was about to have a heart attack, didn't he?" I laughed softly, remembering the Doctor's pale white face once I had begun my ascent. "I am sure he will get used to it as this voyage goes on. You have, after all."

"If I may say so, ma'am, even after spacing with you for so many years, I am still not settled with the idea of you leaping around from rope to rope in such weather." Arrow stopped writing and have me a pointed look. "In fine weather, yes, but not in the middle of a storm. Especially in those boots of yours."

I shrugged off Arrow's worries with a shake of my head. "Oh tosh, Arrow, I have been running around in these things for years. I've yet to take a tumble." I smirked and raised an eyebrow. "You really should not be so worried. I can take care of myself up there, you know."

Arrow sighed as he returned to his writing. "I know, I know – but it only takes one slip for the worst to happen."

"I am aware. I have seen the consequences before, but if something like that is to happen to me, then it will not be because of my choice in footwear I can assure you." I replied. "And I do believe that every topman I have seen fall from a spar were all wearing flat shoes."

"That is because you are the only person…_brave_ enough to wear heels so high up in the tops."

My eyes narrowed. "You were going to say something along the lines of 'crazy', were you not?"

Arrow leaned back and put his fountain pen down. His eyes were dancing with mischievous mirth, but he raised his hands up innocently. "Let us just say there is a reason why I chose the marines and you chose the Navy, ma'am. How anyone can venture up there is beyond me."

"Are you sure it was not to avoid all that talk about space omens?"

"Oh for Heaven's sake - not this again."

I laughed out loud at Arrow's growl of contempt. By now, the initial apprehension of facing this storm of ours had subsided. I knew exactly what I was facing and how to do so; finally, I could let myself relax a little. While this storm is exceptionally large and gusty, I don't believe it to be strong enough to rip apart a ship the _Legacy_'s size. It will just be a long wait until we will be able to unfurl the sails again and start to make some progress.

"Just so you know, marines can be just as susceptible to silly superstitions as spacers. I joined the marines because I was made of a different kind of – _stuff_." Arrow said matter-of-factly, fuddling with his rather small fountain pen in his rather large hand. "It takes a certain kind of person to willingly jump around at such perilous heights."

"I believe it just takes years of practice." I said with a grin. "Besides, I am a feline, Arrow. We are naturally more adept to such situations after all. But I don't truly believe that you joined the marines just because you did not want to venture aloft."

Arrow scowled. "Captain…" He growled as a playful warning.

"Are you sure you won't believe in such things, Arrow? Because I am certain I saw some St. Elmo's Fire earlier and if I did not know better," I feigned looking out of the porthole window with intent curiosity. "-I would say we should expect a storm around about now."

Arrow did not even crack a smile at my joke (although, I thought it was rather quite humorous). "If you are going to behave like that, you can leave my wardroom."

A knock interrupted me mid-laugh and in came Mr Hawkins with a trolley carrying the officers' lunch. He hesitated at the sight of me. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I didn't realise that you- "

"Not to worry, Mr Hawkins." I said, jumping to my feet. "I'm not planning of having my lunch here. I will take my meal in my cabin still. How are you faring with this unrelenting pitching, Mr Hawkins?"

The boy looked at me warily but was courteous enough in his response. "Fine, ma'am. Think, uh, I've found my space legs."

"That's good – some spacers never find theirs." I said. "I've had guests in the past who spent the whole voyage cowering in their rooms from an unceasing spacesickness. Even travelling in the calmest of winds was enough to turn their stomachs. Speaking of which – I best be checking on our financier. I shall leave you to your lunch, Mr Arrow. Oh- and I don't suppose you are up for a game of cards tonight?"

Playing card games with Arrow is one of the few times I can sit back and relax aboard a ship. Other than reading, it is also one of the few pleasures I can find here. I am not particularly artistic, so painting or drawing does not entertain me nor does woodcarving or modelling. The only instrument I am able to play is the piano but there is no way to bring one aboard a ship the Legacy's size (although, I have heard rumours of some admirals furnishing their flag ship's cabin with a piano to amuse themselves with and to provide melodic entertainment for guests). Therefore, for entertainment that did not relate to my duties as a spacer and a Captain, card games are what I mostly defer to. While I usually don't mind playing the odd game of solitaire, I much prefer having a partner and that partner is almost always Arrow.

"Aye, ma'am. I shall join you in your cabin for supper?"

I nodded. "You may. Farewell, Mr Arrow, enjoy your lunch. I shall see you soon, Mr Hawkins."

And with that, my brief few minutes of amusement were over and I returned to the duty that had brought be down from my cabin – inquiring about the well-being of our financier.

* * *

Poor Doctor Doppler – he truly must be the unluckiest man I have ever met. For the past two days I have hardly seen a glimpse of the man. The most I have seen him was during that brief visit of mine to his cabin.

I headed straight there after I departed the wardroom that day, knocked politely, and waited. From inside, I could hear a slight tumbling, as though something was knocked over, before finally the Doctor came to the door. He was very pale and leaned heavily against the frame of the door to keep himself steady. He must have returned to bed after our morning watch as his hair was mussed up and he was only partially dressed in a shirt and breeches. His eyes widened when he realised who had paid him a visit and he mostly hid himself, leaving only his head poking through the crack in the door.

"Doctor," I greeted, ignoring his state of undress and obvious attempt to hide it. "How are you feeling? Mr Arrow tells me your spacesickness has returned?"

The Doctor blushed and looked away. My instincts and Arrow's word had proven true; poor Doctor Doppler was suffering once more. Such a shame – with such awful weather confining us to the refuge of our cabins, I had been hoping we could continue our conversation about the map's origins. Unfortunately, the Doctor was in no condition to venture from his cabin; he was unsteady, clearly nauseous, and extremely tired. I gave him a pitiful look and expressed my sympathies, which he took graciously. I also informed him he was excused from his watch duties until he felt strong enough to resume them. He gave me a weak but thankful smile.

"Thank you, Captain." He said, his voice subdued. "I-I am incredibly sorry about m-my illness. I just wish it would go away forever." He sighed.

"I know, Doctor – but there is very little you can do now other than try and ride this out. Mr Hawkins seems to have shaken his spacesickness off. If you are fortunate, maybe you will too."

I decided not to mention that the Doctor did not have much fortune of late. Even in that moment, what little good fortune he had ran out. The deck rose beneath our feet with the roll of the ship, and the Doctor's face turned an ugly shade of green. I quickly made an excuse and left. The Doctor slammed the cabin door and as I retreated down the corridor, I could still hear him stumbling heavy-footed to his private bathroom, moaning in complete and utter misery.

* * *

That was during the first day of this storm and Doctor Doppler has hardly made an appearance since. I did inquire with Arrow yesterday during another game of gin rummy if he had seen the scientist, and he informed me that the Doctor did brave a visit to the wardroom at lunch but ate very little.

"I believe he poured himself a cup of coffee and helped himself to biscuit or two but he did not stay there, ma'am, and took his pitiful lunch back to his cabin with him." Arrow said while reorganising his cards. He threw one down and picked up another. "I don't believe he has much of the makings of a spacer in him."

"Well, such a life is not for everyone." I muttered and picked up the deadwood card Arrow threw down in the discard pile. "Oh – and I do believe I win. I shall take that tea now."

I showed Arrow my melds and he sighed and threw down his hand. I laughed and began to collect the cards into a pile. Arrow got up, grumbling, and headed to the sideboard to pour us both another cup of tea from my stash as forfeit for his loss. Meanwhile, I sat in my chair, my thoughts lingering on our spacesick financier, listening to the rain splattering on the window. It was a rather soothing sound, especially when accompanied by rumbles of thunder. I was rather tired – yesterday had been a long day of hardly doing anything. Two long watches in the lashing rain left me soaked to the bone and chilled. For most of the day I was shivering in my cabin, trying to keep a chill at bay with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders and an electric radiator at my feet, flipping through a few books of my personal collection and ended up making sketches of the map for the logbook (they turned out rather poorly, I am no great artist after all). The highlight of the day was Arrow joining me for supper, followed by a couple of card games to kill the time before our final inspections.

The sound of rain, a few rounds of cards with a friend, and a hot cup of tea. One could hardly hope for anything better in the middle of a sto-

_Ah_.

If I remember correctly, Arrow served our tea with a little slice of ginger. Slightly spicy but soothed with a drop of sweet honey. It was delicious but, thinking about it now, ginger helps with nausea, does it not?

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I remember my mother drinking some when she was pregnant. Or maybe it was just a dream? Or a different kind of tea? No – it must have happened, I think I tried some and found it too strong for my young taste-buds. I would not touch the stuff for most of my childhood, maybe that was the reason why. I will have to ask Arrow, but he might not know either. He and my father were in space for much of my mother's final pregnancy – they only returned once my brother was born, and then went away quickly again, but maybe he can recall something?

If I am correct, then maybe it is worth sharing some ginger tea with Doctor Doppler. Hopefully it could relieve some of his spacesickness symptoms - and it will be something different to do while waiting for this storm to pass. It's worth a try, but I will have to ask Arrow after our forenoon watch. For now, I will have brace myself for spending another four hours out in the cold wind and rain.

I truly loathe this weather.

* * *

Lightning has finally struck.

Since joining this storm, we had yet to catch even a fleeting glimpse of any lightning. We knew it was out there somewhere – the ever-constant thunder was proof of that. I had been praying we would skirt past it but, alas, it seems the rest of us are just about as fortunate as Doctor Doppler.

Today, during my forenoon watch, I was aloft checking the mainmast sails when a bolt of lightning struck the tip of the port side main yardarm. I had to slap my hands over my ears to protect them from the furious boom of thunder. Luckily, I was over on the starboard side, and shielded myself from the flying splinters of wood by using the mainmast. Once it was safe, I peeked a look around the mast. The tip of the yardarm was no more than a smoldering stub of splintered wood. Ropes went flying loose and the furled main course sail slackened. The clew-line and the outermost bunt-line were loose, as well as the foot-ropes below, and I darted port to grab one, hissing as I went. Without a foot-rope, I was forced to balance myself on the wood of the yardarm, which was already slippery from the downpour of rain. Far away I could hear Mr Arrow calling for the hands to come aloft, but there was another deafening clap of thunder that echoed so loud that I instinctively flinched. My ears were ringing. I clenched my jaw and planted my feet on the yardarm, hauling in the line with my knees bent. The rain was lashing at my face, making it almost impossible to see.

Mr Scroop came scuttling across and with the grips on his Mantavor legs, he was able to seamlessly pass under me on the yardarm and reach up for the far clew-line. "Haul them in!" I yelled over the thunder. "Ha-"

The loose foot-rope was thrashing like a furious serpent and licked itself upwards. It struck the right side of my face. The whip of the rope stung horribly but it was the shock of such a lash that caused me to lose my footing and slip from the yardarm. I gave yowl and clung to the bunt-line rope tightly as I swung down and around. Someone gave a cry of alarm but my senses had momentarily taken leave. I sucked in a breath of air and looked around, trying find something sturdy to leap to, but stars were bursting before my eyes. The rope was still attached on one end to the mainmast, so I was safely anchored on that side. I was left floundering in the wind.

Once I had come to my senses, I looked around, weighing up my options. From that height, I could have simply leapt down and landed on the deck on my feet but I did not trust my footing in this weather. One slip had been enough for today, I did not want to risk another. Instead I swung on the loose bunt-line again and again until I succeeded in flinging out an arm and grabbing one of the shroud lines. A foot soon mounted itself on a ratline and with one final throw of my weight, I was safely clinging the mainmast shroud.

Suddenly, I could breathe easy again. A rigger – Mr Mackrini, I believe – reached out a hand to haul in the rest of the bunt-line so I let it go and secured myself on the shroud. We climbed back up to the platform at the mainmast, and I shouted my orders in a stern voice as if the whole affair had never happened. "Haul in any loose lines, and secure the main sail! Mr Scroop, get an axe and chop away the stub of wood! I don't want any part of this ship catching fire!"

The end of the yardarm, which was now a quarter of the way closer to the mainmast, was still smoking although I could not see any flames. The wood was blackened and crumbling to ash. Luckily enough, none of the ropes seemed to take to any flames although from what I inspected, some of the clew-line was blackened and frayed as well. That will need replacing after this storm, along with the yardarm. We have spares, of course, locked away in the hold but obviously it will not to do to try and replace it in this weather. As for the debris from the strike, I have had it all cleared away and dumped overboard. Mr Scroop had obeyed my order and was hacking away at the stub of the yardarm until all the blackened and charred wood was thrown into the storm. Once I was satisfied the ropes were secure and our mainsail was not about to come free, I descended down to the main deck and headed towards the bridge.

Arrow was waiting for me, his mouth open to pour concern about my well-being but I quickly dismissed that nonsense and asked about the effects of the lightning on our electrics. Luckily, other than a bit of static, all seems well. Once we pull into a waystation, I will still have the ship's compass re-calibrated to be prudent but nothing can be done about that until then.

"We've had a blessed escape." I muttered breathlessly. Despite appearances, the wind had truly been knocked out of me. The right side of my face was aching but I had to wait until my watch was over to address it.

Once my shift had been relieved, I sent word for Mr Hawkins to report to my cabin while I withdrew. I unburdened myself of my soaked coats and approached a mirror to inspect my face. The whip had not been deep enough to draw blood, but had left an angry red mark that was tender to touch. A friction burn – nothing more. It will fade away and heal in its own time (although the sooner the better).

Mr Hawkins arrived shortly and his eyes widened at the sight of my mark. "Some ice, if you would please, Mr Hawkins. Oh – and if you could fill my samovar as well I would be most grateful."

The boy was wise enough not to make a comment and instead went to complete my orders. He returned balancing a large jug of water, my lunch (a cold fruit salad with the ever-faithful ship's biscuit) and some ice wrapped in a clean tea towel. I lifted the ice gratefully to my face and the chill helped reduce any swelling, drawing out the heat of the burn. I nearly sighed with relief out loud. I thanked Mr Hawkins after he filled my samovar and he retreated from the room. With him gone, I swung my legs over the arm of my chair and relaxed, waiting for the samovar to boil so I could make myself some tea.

After all that bother I think I deserve it.

* * *

Those who know me know I have a particular partiality for tea.

My family drank it nearly all the time. Arrow claims that it is because my great-grandfather's family owned a tea plantation, and my great-grandfather was born and raised there. Even though the tea plantation is long gone, it seems that its importance to my family has remained throughout the generations. Even now, I always have my own private stash of tea in my stateroom. My taste in blends change according to my mood, and I usually settle for some bergamot tea but I prefer to be prepared for any kind of craving I may have. Therefore, my stateroom cupboard is stashed with all kinds of ingredients I may want or need: honey, cinnamon, mint leaves, certain flowers (if I was feeling adventurous), and coincidentally, ginger root.

Ginger tea is relatively easy to make. The only difference is to add some slices of freshly cut ginger root and leave it to steep in the teapot.

The teapot in question is a cheap old thing, made of a type of metal. I used to purchase porcelain teapots but they kept smashing in the erratic pitching of a ship. Fortuitously, I have found that tea served in a metal teapot preserves its heat for longer, so when the tea had finished brewing and I eventually descended below decks to share my concoction with Doctor Doppler, there was a steady amount of steam drifting from the spout.

I must admit, I was rather pleased with myself. After two long days of being confined to my cabin, I was grateful for the excuse to venture out and still stay dry. Also, I was inwardly hoping this would be just what Doctor Doppler needed to miraculously cure his ailment even though realistically, if proper medication was doing very little to subside his symptoms, what good could a couple of tea leaves and ginger root do in comparison?

A wrench was thrown into my plan, however, when I knocked on the door to the Doctor's cabin and was not received with an answer. I was left in the corridor, teapot in hand. I was about to assume that he was fast asleep and I would be left to drink a whole pot of tea alone when Arrow emerged from the other end of the hall. He blinked in surprise at the sight of me, standing outside the Doctor's door with a _pot of_ _tea_ of all things, blushing like a child caught with her hand in the biscuit tin. Which is ridiculous, by the way – I have no idea why my face flushed at that moment. I was not doing anything wrong. I was simply trying to help our financier. True, it may be a little out of character for me and making a whole pot of ginger tea was really going above and beyond for just one person but since when was that a crime? I am just hoping that Arrow did not notice as my face was already reddened from the rope burn struck across one cheek.

"Captain!" Arrow exclaimed eventually, after spending seconds deliberating that I was not indeed a mirage. "I…did not expect to see you below decks…at Doctor Doppler's door…"

"I believe I have something that may help his spacesickness," I said quickly. "But I do suspect he is asleep."

I turned to retreat to my stateroom but Arrow's words stopped me. "Doctor Doppler is in the wardroom with his lunch, ma'am."

My ears twitched, believing this to be a sign that the Doctor was on the mend even without my special brew. "Ah," I said, my mouth lingering open with uncertainty. I only enter the wardroom by Arrow's invitation, and the Doctor probably would not want me barging in the private domain of officers and guests, even if it was to his benefit. However…

I spun on my heel and marched towards the wardroom. "Thank you, Mr Arrow. I don't suppose you fancy joining the Doctor and I for some ginger tea, do you?"

"Thank you, ma'am, but I was about to head out for my rounds. Please enjoy it, all the same." He smiled and tipped his hat and left, squeezing past me in the narrow corridor. If I am not mistaken, I could have sworn I saw a touch of amusement in those eyes of his. I elected to ignore it and move on, although I must admit it, I was a touch anxious.

I've never entered the wardroom without Arrow present, not while we're on business, and certainly not when it is being used by its rightful occupants. A part of me was hoping that the Doctor was not aware of the unspoken rule, as he knew so little about life aboard a ship, but I felt that I still owed him an explanation and an apology for my presence.

The wardroom door was left slightly ajar and as I approached, I could hear the tell-tale shuffling and breathing that signified someone was still in there. Out of courtesy, I knocked on the door and pushed it further open to peek inside. Doctor Doppler was sat at the table, frowning at a bowl of cold fruit, pushing his lunch around with a spoon. He was rather pale with dark circles under his eyes and his clothing wrinkled and creased. He looked out of sorts, which is only expected after spending nearly three whole days below decks suffering with spacesickness. He looked up with curiosity at the knock and quickly dropped his spoon with a clatter at the sight of me.

"C-Captain!" He gasped and pulled his red coat around him tighter in an attempt to hide his shabby appearance. "I w-wasn't expecting you down here, er- what's happened to your face?"

"Oh, this?" I raised a hand to where the foot line had struck me. "Only a minor friction burn, Doctor, it's nothing to worry about - but I did want to see you about your unfortunate illness. I believe I may have something that could help remedy it."

At this, I lifted the teapot in my hands. The Doctor blinked and tilted his head slightly. Even from across the room, his canine nose sniffed reactively. "Is- is that – it smells rather sharp?"

"It's ginger tea." I said with an amused smile. "Earlier this morning, I recalled a memory of someone drinking it to help ease their nausea. You've been suffering for so long, and if it could ease your symptoms a little…well, I just thought it was worth a try. Are you fond of ginger tea?"

"Well…I can't say I've ever had it but-." The Doctor started to sigh but paused suddenly, giving me a questioning look. I had been standing in the threshold of the door, refusing to step in fully without invitation. It may have been the Doctor wanted to accept the tea but not my intrusion, so I respected that boundary by remaining outside to wardroom. He finally noticed his and shot a quick glance to the chair opposite him. "Err- won't you come in, Captain? I don't mind…if…"

"Only if you consent to my being here-"

"I don't mind at all!"

"-I am sorry, a Captain shouldn't really intrude on her ship's wardroom but I did visit your cabin first and Mr Arrow said you were in here-"

"Oh no, really, I'd be glad of the company." The Doctor said, shaking his head. His canine ears seem to have a mind of their own; they jumped around with every slight movement of his head. "Please, sit down. I-I'll get some cups!"

The Doctor leapt from his seat and stumbled over to the sideboard where there was a canteen of water and various cutlery and crockery for the occupant's use. I stepped into the wardroom tentatively, as though I was wary that the ghost of my father would pop out of thin air and berate me for encroaching on a sacred place of refuge for my officers. With Arrow, it's different – he occupies my stateroom almost as often as I do and when it is just him and I in the wardroom, it feels as though he is returning the hospitality. But with guests or other officers…

But thankfully, the Doctor looked as though he was rather enthusiastic by my presence. Maybe it was just the tea, but he quite happily gathered two sets of teacups and saucers from the sideboard and placed them down on the table. He gave me a weak smile as I sat down, a tad self-consciously, and poured the tea into the cups. Luckily, the teacups were deep so there would be less a risk of spilling but even then, I had to keep one hand on the saucer to stop it from sliding up and down the table, following the motions of the ship. As I poured, the Doctor's eyes kept returning to the burn on my face.

I noticed his concern and tried to shake it off, like I had with Arrow, with a confident smile. "You don't have to worry, Doctor. Rope burns such as these are common for all spacers. One of the occupational hazards of the workplace, I'm afraid. It will be gone in a couple of days, you'll see."

I slid the cup of tea towards him and the Doctor took it in his hands gratefully but he also kept his eyes trained on mine. "How did…it happened?" He asked in a quiet voice.

"I was aloft when some lightning struck a spar." I replied. "It's not uncommon in a storm like this. I've often seen a mast or two get blown to splinters. If anything we had a rather fortunate escape - but the rigging around that side of the yardarm came loose and one rope struck me while I was trying to haul in a clew-line."

"It looks rather painful." The Doctor commented with a wince.

I gave a slight shrug. "I've already treated it with some ice. There's nothing one can do now but wait for it to heal by itself. If anything, Doctor, I would be more concerned about your spacesickness. Speaking of which, how are you feeling? I see you've made an attempt to eat something."

The Doctor looked down at his untouched lunch and cringed. "Oh – yes but, really, I – I don't think I can stomach it but I don't want to waste it either…"

"I am sure the rest of the crew wouldn't mind taking your leftovers," I said with a smirk. "Or maybe Mr Silver could feed that pet of his."

At this, the Doctor chuckled softly. "That's probably true. I don't think I can handle a full plate of food just yet but I am eager to try this tea." He blew on the steaming liquid first, then sipped it, his tongue lapping and rolling the taste around in his mouth. "Hmm…" He said appreciatively. "A little spicy but still rather nice."

"I usually take mine with some honey but I thought the stronger the ginger, the better the results on your stomach." I replied, lifting my own cup to my lips. "But I'm glad you like it. Hopefully it will work its charms."

"I hope so too. I'd do anything to for some relief from all this." The Doctor sighed and ran a hand through his mussed-up hair.

"Are you still taking your medication?" I asked.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes but – this infernal rocking is far worse than before and I can hardly get any sleep with all this –"

He was interrupted by a long, loud rumble of thunder that made our teacups rattle in their saucers. The Doctor looked pointedly at me with tired eyes. I couldn't help but smirk at his predicament. "I am sorry, Doctor. Space can be a rather mixed bag sometimes. Some voyages go more smoothly than others. I promise you, it's not always this turbulent."

"I'll take your word for it," The Doctor muttered. "Obviously you've been on more voyages than me. Err - just out curiosity, how many voyages have you been on exactly?"

"Oh, more than I could count. I've lost track over the years." I answered with a wave of my hand. "Between deployment, tours of duty, and trips and travelling between planets, there's just been so many. Before this voyage, I was in space for a few nights shipping timber, before that it was two weeks carrying materials to Killian's Reach, and before _that_ I spent a whole month bringing a hold full of silk along with of the company's representatives down to Crescentia from the Galyon system, and so on and so forth."

"But…I thought that…" The Doctor tilted his head and bit his lip. "Not to be rude but, I thought you are in the Navy and – well, I don't believe that the Navy is shipping goods for companies?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "Might as well be, for all the good the Navy is worth these days. No, Doctor, I am technically a member of the Royal Naval Reserves – which means I am still allowed to wear the uniform, and I have a ship to call my own command, but the pay is considerably less. I attend occasional drills and exercises but in peacetime, I have to make my own income for my lifestyle. Usually by hiring out the ship and myself for shipping. Sometimes the Navy commissions me themselves for running a bit of ammunition or rope or whatever this and there, but generally I am hired by private companies and individuals."

"Oh," The Doctor nodded. "And they also hired you for this voyage?"

"They did indeed." I replied.

"But you weren't always in the Reserves?"

"No, I started out in the official Royal Navy. I served for less than a decade and then chose to retire to the Reserves. Five years later, I am still here." I said with a forced smile. The circumstances of my departure from the Navy is less than ideal, and something I rather not delve into.

"Why did you quit?" The Doctor asked innocently enough, even though the question caused my gut to clench uneasily. "I mean, you were there for less than ten years but you still worked your way up to Captain? By that, I'd say you must have been really good at your job."

At this, I gave an honest laugh. "I'll take that as a compliment, thank you, Doctor. And I left because…of a difference of opinions."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"That an Admiral thought one thing and I thought another." I said rather bluntly, hoping it would encourage the Doctor to drop the issue. While I have decided to be a bit more liberal with my professional history with the Doctor, I still do not want to go into topics I am not comfortable with.

It seemed to work, and the Doctor's ears moved back as he cowed away slightly. He took another sip of his tea as a rather awkward silence fell. At this point I was rather tired about talking about myself, so I racked my brain for question to ask him instead.

"I believe I recall you saying that this voyage is your first venture into space, Doctor? If I may be so bold, how come you never have travelled to space before? You are an astronomer after all, I would have assumed that your appreciation for astral objects would give you more than enough reason to travel out here on more than one occasion?"

Apparently it was my turn to strike a nerve. The Doctor paled even more than usual and shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Ah…" He mumbled. "Well - that would be because of my family. They – err, they were very protective. I was their only child and, well, spacing was not encouraged."

Family was the very topic I never wanted to breach and yet I had clumsily stuck my whole foot in it. I instinctively froze up and pursed my lips at the very word. Ironically, this parental protectiveness is something we have in common. My mother dreaded the very idea that I would ever take after my father and follow him into a naval career, and she had done her very best to discourage that when I was very young. After her death, my aunt Matilda took up that mantle but she was fighting a losing battle thanks to the efforts of my grandfather, my father, and my own willful soul.

"It's understandable." I said, carefully avoiding my own experiences. "Spacing can be incredibly dangerous."

"I know but, to be completely honest, I was always rather bitter because of it. I applied for the Interstellar Institute of Science as an undergraduate but they interfered and I ended up studying on Montressor instead. They didn't want me travelling far, especially off-planet. I believe they thought I would never come back."

Blushing, the Doctor motioned to the teapot and asked if he could have another cup. I waved a hand to allow him to help himself and he even chivalrously topped up my own. I thanked him and drummed my fingers against the cup. "Well, not to be rude, Doctor, but that sounds awfully extreme. I am sure they were just being considerate but you must be implausibly unlucky to perish on your first outing to space. Thousands of ships leave ports all over the galaxy every single day, and I am sure that almost all of them will return to land at some point."

The Doctor chuckled sheepishly and loosened the collar of his shirt. "Ah – that's just the thing – I _am_ implausibly unlucky – or at least, my family is. You see, those of my relatives who _have_ travelled to space found a very strong liking to it but most of them had unhappy endings."

I watched him curiously over the rim of my teacup. "You mean not all of them made it back home?"

"My uncle Barnaby did, but he was left pocket-less after some misadventures and wrong investments. I'm not too sure where he is now but he left our home on Montressor after an argument with my father and I haven't heard from him since. But my other uncle Elijah went away exploring wilderness space and never came back. Then there's my great-uncle Cuthbert, he hired a ship to tour the seven space seas but died after the ship was dashed to pieces by space whales, and my great-great aunt Georgiana joined the Royal Navy but apparently she was eaten by Zaftwings."

"Oh dear!" I exclaimed, recoiling at such a thought. Zaftwings are beautiful but mysterious creatures than consume their prey by capturing them with their electrically-charged tentacles, absorbing them into their bodies to be dissolved over a period of time. A horrific, tragic way to die. "I am so sorry, Doctor."

"I never knew any of them, well - apart from Uncle Barnaby but I was only a child when he left. But all that history was enough for my parents and grandparents to try and convince me never to leave Montressor. I never did but…I was always waiting for that opportunity. I thought that leaving for university would be just that but…it wasn't."

"But you're here now." I said with a growing smile. "You've found that opportunity in the end."

The Doctor met my eye and also smiled in return. "I did. And I hope my family can forgive but…I could hardly let this chance go. I mean, who can say that they've ever had the possibility to – to – to-"

His sentence died as he realised where he was and looked around warily. Blushing once again, the Doctor coughed to try and hide his abandoned train of thought.

"I am sure they will forgive you, Doctor." I stepped in, saving the conversation. "Like you said, one can hardly let this opportunity go by. It truly is…one in a million. Ha! I just hope that you aren't our bad luck charm! Maybe if I tossed you overboard, this storm would subside?"

For a brief second, the Doctor whitened with fright before he realised that I was only teasing. He managed a nervous laugh and drained his cup. "Well, if this storm gets any worse, I wouldn't blame you for trying."

I laughed again and shook my head. "I promise you, Doctor, you are safe with me. Mr Arrow wouldn't believe any of that bad luck business anyway, not in a month of Sundays, but if the crew decides to turn against you, I swear that we will step in to protect you."

"I would be grateful. I'll make sure the Navy gives you a bonus if you do." The Doctor said, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. I grinned back.

From there the conversation continued to be surprisingly pleasant. With each passing second the Doctor was returning more and more to his old self. There was more colour to his face and the dark circles under his eyes were receding even though he would occasionally rub his eyes with fatigue. The Doctor, possibly emboldened by my interest in his family history, began to ask questions about my own which I quickly shut down. He didn't seem to mind all too much. The rest of my lunch hour was spent away chatting about this inherited unluckiness of his, which I must admit, despite the horrible family history, amused me to a certain degree.

The Doctor claimed that his family is plagued by what they call a 'wanderlust' – an innate and ardent desire to travel for adventure and exploration. Some of his family are spared from this – like his father and grandparents who all decided to become various specialist scientists: his father was also an astrophysicist, his grandmother a botanist who came to Montressor to try and instill some kind of imported eco-system which never came to fruition, and his grandfather a geologist who also studied the natural fossil-fuels found in abundance on the planet and was frequently in contact with the various Montressan mines. It was rather interesting, especially when I can draw the parallels to my own family of which many members have taken to space in various ways. Those of the Doctor's ancestors who were struck with this cursed 'wanderlust' explored and travelled abroad and got themselves mixed up in many adventures. As a boy, the Doctor used to drink up those tales and constantly read the various journals in his family's library. He told me that he used to play pretend to be his great-great-great-grandfather Cornelius, the founder of their family's wealth and home, who was one of the first to land on Montressor and stake their claim on its wealth of natural resources. His play almost scared his parents to death and forced them to lock away those journals out of his reach for many years -but the Doctor never forgot about that part of his ancestry.

Truly, I was enraptured. You could hardly predict all this just by glancing at the man. Perhaps from the diminished physique you could draw together a conclusion that he comes from a long line of academics and scholars, but never that his family is plagued by a sense of adventure than often leads to unfortunate ends for them. It seems to me that these two attributes are two sides of the same Doppler coin and poor Doctor Doppler seems to fall somewhere in the middle – at least for now.

We will have to see how this voyage turns out but I do hope there won't be any embarrassing moments where I have to wrangle the Doctor from the tentacles of a Zaftwing to spare him the same fate as his great-great-aunt Georgiana.

But, regrettably my tea-time with the Doctor had to come to an end.

A chime from the wardroom clock informed me that it was now time for my midday rounds, and I sat up straight, gathering the now empty teapot in my hands. The Doctor thanked me for the tea, and for the generosity of sharing it, which I graciously accepted and in turn thanked him for the pleasure of his company. He seemed rather pleased by that and we departed ways. I headed back to my cabin, feeling wonderfully refreshed after an hour of delightful conversation - something I have been missing dreadfully since this accursed storm began!

* * *

The rest of the day has been bleak.

This beastly weather persists and I am running out of ways to keep myself busy. I've already inspected the spare yard we have lined up ready to replace the damaged one once this storm passes on. The ropes have been measured and checked. The crew seem in high enough spirits, considering the circumstances. Tomorrow I may start clearing through the armory, just to keep my hands busy. I don't trust the crew enough to leave them alone for hours in a room full of weapons and ammunition, so perhaps I will head down there tomorrow and start cleaning the guns. In all honesty, I would not mind making another pot of tea as an excuse to spend another hour in the wardroom with Doctor Doppler. With no disrespect to Arrow, he is wonderful, but there is only so many times I can spend my evenings playing the same game of cards over and over again. My conversation with the Doctor was so divergent to my usual conversations that it was exactly what I was craving with this blasted cabin fever.

Truly I cannot wait until we can return to normal spacing again, to stand out on the bow of the ship for hours at a time simply staring up at the stars - and to have a hot meal again! The usual hustle and bustle on deck will return and I can resume overseeing the crew properly. We can get started on replacing the damaged ropes and yard, unfurl the sails for them to dry up in the sunlight. All this moisture has probably encouraged astrobarnacles to grow all over the hull. Our cabin boy will have his hands full scraping them off as I refuse to pull into a waystation with a hull in such a condition. We also have much time to catch up on - we should have reached the Cloud by now, if it weren't for this storm delaying our progress.

My mind won't rest until we are back on schedule, but until this storm has passed us, I am afraid there is little I can do but remain confined to my cabin impatiently waiting and bored out of my mind.


	8. Back to Square One

**AN: Thank you all again for the kind reviews and I hope you enjoy this chapter (it's pretty long, I got a bit carried away)! **

Date: 013.071.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, Waystation Victoria, the Magellanic Cloud.

Finally, we are due to reach our first stop upon this blasted voyage.

Early this morning, Waystation Victoria was spotted on the horizon – a spaceport abundant with fresh produce and with enough noise and bustle to rival even Crescentia, though not nearly as pleasing to the eye. Way-station Victoria is no more than a few piers circling the surface of a rather large asteroid (certainly not was magnificent as a structure like Crescentia). Despite this, I still breathed out a sigh of relief once I saw her even though she was no more than a speck in my spyglass. It has taken us just shy of two weeks to get to her and already, it has been a rather tiresome voyage. Between arguments with the financier and my disdain for the crew, I would be happy for someone to relieve me of my duty here.

Even the past storm was not nearly as vexing as Doctor Doppler has been this past day. The man has hardly given me a side-glance all day which is irritating because between the two of us, it is me who has the reason to be angry beyond reparation.

But I explain the argument between the Doctor and I, I am compelled to entail how our voyage has continued its course by leaving that blasted tempest!

* * *

Our luck began to turn a two days ago when the storm finally began to subside.

I first noticed a change one morning as I readied myself for the day; the deck was far more stable beneath my feet than it had been since we first ventured into the storm clouds. I smirked to myself while dressing into my uniform, thinking about how grateful Doctor Doppler would be for this development. At this point, things remained rather amicable between the two of us. Ever since our shared lunch-time tea, each conversation was less tense and frosty than the last and I was slowly losing the sense of dread and annoyance I felt each time I laid my eyes on him. So much so that when I realised how the weather was receding up the current and out of our path, my first thoughts were of the Doctor's spacesickness and how a return to usual travel would benefit him.

My suspicions were confirmed when I left my cabin that morning. When I strode out onto the deck, I no longer had to keep a hand on my hat to stop it from flying away with the wind. I took in a deep breath of fresh air and strode up to the bridge, taking in the weather with a critical eye. The lightning had ceased and the intervals between each rumble of thunder grew longer and longer. We were not completely out of the woods just yet – the rain still pounded relentlessly and visibility was still poor. The very tops of our masts were obscured by misty clouds and there was no hope to catch even a glimpse of sky.

But sure enough – the barometer at the bridge had risen albeit by a singular point. The slightest difference but it foretold that we could resume to our usual business soon. As a result of this heart-warming sight, I brought the ship off anchor and we began to push through the storm once more. The stress on the ship instantly increased but she was faring far better than when we first ploughed into this storm. It was still slow ahead but ahead, nonetheless.

Arrow later validated my opinion. He had squeezed his way into my stateroom to give me his morning report, rather unbothered by the rain despite being drenched from head to foot. "It seems," He said as he removed his hat and shook off the water that had collected there. "That this weather is finally starting to move on, ma'am."

"My hunch exactly, Mr Arrow," I replied rather cheerfully, sitting up straighter in my chair. "About bloody time too. Now, your report?"

"All is well, ma'am. The Legacy is running along smoothly, but I do believe the crew are starting to grow irritable."

At this, I raised an eyebrow. "Well – they weren't exactly the most agreeable lot to begin with but what makes you say so?"

"Just some grumbling and sulking, ma'am – a little more than usual, that is. I believe I may have interrupted an argument between Mr Schwarzkopf and Mr Aquanoggin when I descended into the crew's quarters. Nothing more than a few choice words but I dread to think it could have escalated without my intrusion. I decided to address the situation by berating them for the state of the quarters and ordered them to tidy the mess up before your own inspection."

"Good – a bit of cleaning will cool their tempers. How bad was the mess?"

"Emptied space chests, clothing and blankets littering the floor and such. The smell is beginning to build there but with the poor ventilation, it can hardly be helped at this moment."

"True," I said, pursing my lips together in thought. The crew's quarters always build a rather particular stench after so long due to so many men sleeping within close confines of each-other and in a room that is poorly ventilated even with the hatches uncovered. "The hammocks are due for a clean but there's no way to dry them all before lights out. Perhaps a bit of mopping will suffice for now?"

Arrow nodded. "Aye, ma'am. I'll pick a few men to carry out that order."

"Make sure to choose the ones who seem the most unsettled. I don't care if we are nearing a waystation, that is no excuse to start brawling on this ship and causing injuries. I have no plans to be visiting a medic's station with some bumped-up dipstick who decided to swing his fists instead of twiddling his thumbs."

Arrow threw me a salute. "Aye, aye, ma'am – oh, and another thing, all this damp weather has caused astrobarnacles to grow all over the keel."

"Blast it! Already?" I snarled. "How many?"

"Quite a few ma'am. Let's just say that some ships may struggle to identify us as a naval ship soon."

That meant that the white-painted keel must be completely buried beneath the foul creatures - and I refuse to dock at a waystation with a soiled hull. My lips curled back into a hiss. "How in Heaven's name do they spread so quickly?" I cursed. "Mr Hawkins will certainly be busy after this weather has passed."

"It will make up for the lack of mopping recently ma'am." Arrow replied with a shrug.

"Certainly so. Anyway, Arrow, I shall let you go if that's all. I best be heading to the crew's quarters to see if our cabin boy will have help or not with his chores." I said with a smirk. "I will see you on the bridge for our watch."

Arrow respectfully touched his hat and nodded. With that, his morning report was over and we both filed out of my stateroom and out into the freezing rain, neither us thinking that Mr Hawkins scrapping the hull of the ship would prove to be such a bother as it did.

* * *

That was the morning of a rather long, dull day.

Mr Aquanoggin and Mr Schwarzkopf had done a good job of cleaning up the crew's quarters. The floor was spotless when I arrived and all the crew's chests and belongings were neatly piled in one corner out of the way. Despite this, my nose did twitch with irritation. Arrow's word proved true; a pungent stink was beginning to grow down there. To try and remedy this, Arrow had a group of four scrub the floors. This provided a minor improvement to the smell at best. Truly, I did not expect much but the activity was worth the work as it had worn out some of the more aggressive members of this crew so they were far less likely to start looking for other less savoury means of entertainment.

Meanwhile I had been making frequent trips out onto the bridge all day, looking for a break in the clouds only for each visit to provide me with disappointment and left me in a fouler mood each time. I spent most of that day sulking in my cabin, reorganising documents and my belongings just to keep my mind and hands busy in between my inspections and watches.

It was not until the middle watch that night that I finally saw stars again for the first time in days.

Rain was still falling when I was joined on deck by the other watchmen: Mr Snuff, Mr Hands, Mr Mackrini, and Ms Krailoni. I was watching them report to their various stations from my place on the bridge when a slight shuffling to my right caused my ears to twitch in that direction. I turned, and there was Doctor Doppler looking better than he had in days. In fact, he almost looked like his usual self albeit the distinctive tired look in his eyes. He was wearing his yellow raincoat and matching bucket hat, clutching an umbrella with his dear life. I raised my eyebrows in surprise at his appearance.

"Ah, Doctor Doppler!" I exclaimed with a warm smile. "I am amazed to see you on deck so soon. I take it that you are reporting for your watch? I do hope so or I will be forced to send you back to your cabin. Curfew is still in affect you know?"

The Doctor clung to his umbrella and stood a little taller. "I am, indeed, Captain. I think I've finally conquered this spacesickness bother."

"For now, anyway." I muttered as he approached. The Doctor took each step cautiously, swaying back and forth rather precariously but eventually made his way to my side by the helm. Meanwhile, I was supressing a grin. "But it is good to see you on deck, Doctor. I am glad you are feeling better."

He returned my smile a little shyly, said nothing, and instead reached out his arm to shield us both from the rain by the use of his umbrella. I glanced up, a little in surprise at his move but at the same time grateful.

"Thank you, Doctor."

A blush crept across his face. "Ah- you're welcome, Captain. I – uh – thought it would be a bit selfish of me to hog it to myself."

I chuckled and shifted a bit closer. "That is most gracious of you, Doctor, and I am thankful. I am not overly fond of this weather - but I suppose you are rather used to it, being from Montressor and all. I for one cannot imagine living on a planet so consistently gloomy."

"Oh, yes, I'm rather used to rain by now. I – uh- assume you are more used to the clear skies of the Etherium?"

"Quite so," I said, ruefully glancing out at the dark clouds surrounding the ship. "Ships avoid this kind of weather at all costs but, alas, sometimes it cannot be helped."

"I – uh – suppose we are still on course?" He asked, making casual conversation, as I stepped forward out of the sanctuary of the umbrella to check the maps.

"I assume so, Doctor." I replied rather grimly. "Until we can see the stars again, I am unable to physically navigate our position. This storm has interfered with the electrics, you see, so I am not comfortable with relying on the ship's instruments until they can be recalibrated at the Magellanic Cloud. I will have to dig out my sextant and get to work once the skies clear up."

Doctor Doppler raised an eyebrow. "Oh – maybe I could help? I mean, I've studied many star charts of the area. I am very familiar with-"

"I am sure you know your way around many a star chart, Doctor, and I do appreciate the offer but I am afraid I must turn it down." I interrupted with an apologetic look. "I am afraid if the Admiralty found out I was passing out my responsibilities to civilians then they'll surely have me frog-marched into an office for a reprimanding. They are frightfully strict about such things so I must complete my charts without an outsider's input."

"Eve-even from a noted astrophysicist?" He asked. The pitch of his voice had risen a few octaves, clearly signifying that he was taken a little aback by my dismissal.

"Certainly." I nodded firmly. "The Admiralty expect certain protocols to be followed no matter what the situation and, unfortunately, that includes the rule that any navigation is to be carried out by someone with official qualifications from approved academic courses. Even when past financiers have brought their own navigators, I have still had to run my own calculations just to be able to sign off _theirs_ and comply with the Royal Navy's regulations. The_ Legacy_ is still a naval ship, you see, and they expect her to be handled by one of their own. A load of bother if you ask me. I believe it is just an excuse to torture commanding officers with more paperwork but if I don't conform, I can bet on losing my command."

The Doctor was blinking in surprise, shuffling his feet, but clearly taking in every word I had said. "It seems there must be a lot of rules to follow in the Navy, then."

"Far too many if you ask me," I said through gritted teeth. "But you have my apologies, Doctor. I am sure you must be bored out of your mind recently but taking sights and doing the mathematics has to be completed by myself. A part of the Royal Navy's bureaucracy I am afraid."

"I understand, Captain…I just wanted to help, that's all." The Doctor replied in a small voice, looking rather deflated.

Inside, I felt a little spot of pity for the man. "I am sure you will have your chance." I said softly as if to comfort him.

The Doctor remained silent and to my surprise, I felt rather a little...well, remorseful. Which is ridiculous, of course, because it is not my fault that the Admiralty would bite my head off if they found out I had shifted some of my navigational responsibility to someone without the 'correct' qualifications. After learning about his work with the Astromet Office, I was sure Doctor Doppler would have no trouble picking up such a skill like navigation - he is an astrophysicist after all and navigation is rather simple to someone so mathematically inclined - but Heavens forbid should the powers that be at the Admiralty found out that I had saddled the duty of navigation to someone who has not '_received a high pass grade in a ship-handling and navigational bachelor course from one year of study at a Naval-approved place of study_'!

But yet…there are loopholes available to one's advantage if one knows where to look for them.

And as I stood beside Doctor Doppler under the protection of his umbrella, I was wracking my brain to work out a compromise – one where he could happily have something to exercise his own mind with and one that still complied to the standing orders of the Royal Navy. If I had known about the trouble he would cause me later that day, I most likely would have left him to wallow in his boredom.

But instead, an idea finally hatched in my mind and I had to suppress the satisfied smirk that threatened to grow across my face.

"You know, Doctor," I started. "I don't believe that the Admiralty's ridiculous protocols and rules can stop you from running your _own_ navigational calculations alongside mine. Perhaps we could both chart our own individual courses and then compare notes so to say?"

The Doctor blinked at this and considered me carefully. "And…that would help?"

"Absolutely." I replied with a firm nod of my head, leaving no room for any doubt in the Doctor's mind. "Having two navigators on this ship can only benefit this voyage. I can run my own work without your influence and that will doubtlessly satisfy the Navy but if our results are mismatched then any errors on my part will be picked up and corrected. However, that depends on how much do you already know about navigation?"

I casually left out the vital part of information where I have not made a navigational error since I was a young Midshipman and that in truth, I did not require the Doctor's aid in anyway - but needing an extra navigator was never the point of the invitation. I only wanted to cheer the good Doctor up after his rotten slew of luck these past couple of days and if to do so was by making him feel that he was being of some use, then effectively this was the best way about it.

The idea seemed to work as the Doctor's face almost instantly lit up and from there the conversation turned to navigation, and what it entailed and how quickly the Doctor could pick up such a skill. He began with a rather sincere admission that he did not know much about navigation in the sense of charting ships rather than stars. When I commenced with an explanation about taking sights, dead reckonings and drifts and all that, he seemed to follow along without any confusion and bobbed his head about quite happily. I offered to show him how to take a sight using a sextant and to loan my navigational textbooks that resided in my stateroom. They are old relics of my Academy days and while they are frayed and the paper pages yellowed and withering with age, their content is still solid and sound enough. The Doctor appreciated the offer and took it rather graciously while I made a quick trip to my stateroom to collect my sextant.

It is a rather simple thing and hardly flashy at all. It is made of a sturdy kind of brass, impervious to rust, and while it may need a bit of adjusting now and then, it has served me for years. In truth it can appear quite plain when compared to some of the more ornamental versions my fellow commanding officers – ones garnished with engravings and studded jewels – but those are far too ostentatious for my tastes.

I held my sextant out to the Doctor to hold but as he took it, the clumsy clod nearly dropped it when our fingers brushed slightly together. I pursed my lips, raised an eyebrow and gave him a cautioning look. "Please keep a firm hold of her, Doctor." I said steadily. "I do not want to trouble myself with finding a spare."

"My apologies, Captain," He blushed hotly and reaffirmed his grip on the sextant's frame.

We moved on and spent a good portion of our watch talking about the very instrument we were beholding. I demonstrated to the Doctor how to hold her properly, even adjusting his hands until it felt comfortable in his grasp, and how to move the index arm to read measurements from the scale. To the Doctor's credit, he never interrupted me and was rather quick to learn how to handle the instrument with care. By the time our watch was nearing its end, he was already taking sights using the tip of the bowsprit as a surrogate star.

"Very good, Doctor," I praised. "It seems we could make a navigator of you yet. Now you know how to take a sight, you can practice properly when we finally see some clear sky. I am afraid that will be needing mine, however, but there is a spare sextant down in the wardroom somewhere that you are welcome to use. Of course I am sure Mr Arrow will help you find it if needs be." I offered nonchalantly, taking back my sextant once the Doctor had lowered it from his eye.

"Oh – I brought my own. I have several in my home – well, they're old hand-me-downs from my star-faring ancestors. They were just laying around so I packed one in case it might come in handy. I'm rather glad I did now!"

My ears perked up at this news and a brief thought ran through my mind about how many of Doctor Doppler's ancestors were spacers if he had inherited so many. I titled my head to one side and met the Doctor's eyes. "Truly? It must be rather antique, then?"

"Well…I suppose it's antique. Must be over a century old…err, how old is 'antique' anyway?"

I chuckled at the Doctor's frank question. "At least one-hundred years old. Anything less is considered vintage."

"Probably antique then. Definitely vintage - most of my belongings are."

"Including that pressurised suit you wore at the launch?" I grinned mischievously. "Which one of your adventurous forebearers passed down that old thing?"

The Doctor's frown deepened and he turned away, throwing his chest out as he stood up straight. "Actually that was a _new_ purchase made by _me_."

Well, I laughed out loud – so much so that I had to quickly cover my mouth with my hand to try and physically smother it. My momentary lapse of professionalism came as much as a surprise as the Doctor's comment. I tried to disguise my laugh with a cough and settle my face back into its usual mask of indifference.

"Oh my, I am sorry Doctor but whatever did possess you to buy such a monstrosity?" I said in a low, teasing voice.

"Well I wouldn't call it a _monstrosity_…I mean, it is rather…er, cumbersome, but the saleswoman said it was a perfect fit and her other head said it was just my colour and…" The Doctor saw the sceptical look on my face (the suit is indisputably an ill fit and, while I admit that I have not given the subject much thought, I do believe there are many different colours that complement Doctor Doppler's colouring much better compared to the mustard yellow that accented his space suit) and he gave a beaten sigh. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "I know, I know…it was a bad mistake – but that damned saleswoman wouldn't let me get away without a purchase."

That I can imagine – poor Doctor Doppler does seem to be the kind of person who would easily be convinced into a poor purchase by a smooth-talking merchant. Little world-experience and sometimes having more money than sense often leads to those kind of pitiable decisions. More than once have I seen it happen since becoming a for-hire and it often makes me angry to see some unprincipled person prey on the naivety of others. I can understand a little impatience when it comes to such gullible people (I myself have lost my temper with Doctor Doppler about his own lack of common sense on this very voyage) but to see someone fleeced of their hard-earned money through trickery and deceit often boils my blood. At least Doctor Doppler does not seem so distraught about his own unfortunate business. Maybe he was happy just to buy the suit in order to get away from the vulturous saleswoman.

"Never mind, Doctor." I said to the now-blushing scientist. "I am sure there are a plethora of museums out there that will happily relieve you of that relic of ancient spacing."

"I – uh – maybe I shall make some queries at port-" He stopped his muttered reply short and suddenly made an exclamation of surprise. "Captain! Captain, look! Over there!"

The Doctor flung out a pointed finger and my eyes followed it until they fell on a gap between the misty clouds. For the briefest few minutes, I was staring out at a window of starry night sky. My heart leapt and my head lightened at the sight.

"Finally," I gasped with relief. Three of the stars were bright enough to tinge parts of the sky a deep shade of cobalt rather than black, singling themselves out from their stellar brethren. I had seen those stars many a time from my travels to and from Crescentia. "Those three bright stars-"

"Calliope, Clio and Melpomene." The Doctor continued. "Three of the nine suns of Pelsinor, they are the three most western suns in the system so that must mean-"

Sure enough, as more segments of sky began to break through the mist, Pelsinor was shining among them. From this distance, the planet was no more than a lilac dot against the blackened background of the sky but still close enough to spot with a naked eye. I raised the sextant to my eye and began measuring the angles from the planet and her suns from the absolute horizon (the point of which our bowsprit is level to, classed as the universal 'horizon' throughout the Empire). From experience, in fine weather, Pelsinor was used as the marker to begin contemplating leaving the Magellanic Bridge to reach the Cloud. We were no more than another day or two sail from Waystation Victoria, depending on how quickly the current picked up her strength again.

But my relief at spotting a familiar sight was quickly disregarded once a realization struck me – at how a landlubber like Doctor Doppler was so quick to identify the suns of Pelsinor. He had done something similar before but that was back when we were little more than a day out from Crescentia and close to the area he frequently studied for his work. Inwardly I was impressed. I was only able to name those stars because I had passed them so frequently that I had no choice but to memorise their names and positions – but for a civilian like Doctor Doppler, who had not but a few days past ever set foot into space?

Pelsinor was momentarily forgotten as I turned on the Doctor, struggling to suppress a growing smile. "How did you name them so quickly?"

He brought his eyes from the stars with a look of surprise and took a few seconds to properly digest my question. "Hmm? Oh! Well, um, I – uh – I was assuming that we must be passing the Pelsinor system rather soon and…well, logically speaking, Pelsinor's suns must be spectacularly bright compared to the other constellations. On Montressor, we see a similar affect with the next planetary system over – but Calliope is always a fraction bigger than her sister stars, and Clio and Melpomene are always infamously close to each other. I often have trouble seeing one or the other as they tend to blur into one when I am looking at them from home- but even from this angle, they still hold their formation rather similarly to what I see on Montressor."

"So you've studied these stars as well, then?" I asked.

The Doctor swallowed, broke our eye-contact by looking down and self-consciously began smoothing the creases in his waistcoat. "Well, only for pleasure, mostly. To be honest, I don't believe there is a star in Montressor's sky that I haven't observed in detail."

With my gaze trained on our financier, I lowered my sextant to cradle it close to my chest, absorbing the Doctor's admission with a fine level of fascination. "Well then, Doctor," I said eventually in a softened tone of voice. "You must truly be dedicated to your work. Even I haven't given the stars that much scrutiny."

"Well, Captain, you have other things to worry about – w-with the ship and all. I don't suppose you have much time to measure the apparent magnitude of stars you pass by in a matter of hours." The Doctor replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"While I do enjoy star-gazing now and then, I do not really dive that deep in." I turned from the Doctor and began heading to my stateroom. "But do forgive me for a moment, Doctor. I had best get my note down these sights while I can. Here – take my sextant and try reading a sight from those stars. Let's see just how quickly you can pick up navigation."

I took leave of the bridge for a few minutes, jotting down my measurements and the time I took them on a stray sheet of paper for later use. By the time I returned to my post, the Doctor had taken the sight – and correctly! All there was for him to do was use his charts and my books and navigational tables to plot our course.

He is a strange fellow indeed. Clumsy and bumbling but yet underneath that foppish front is a man of intelligence and quick-learning. He does not appear to do things by halves (a quality I can respect) as his passion for stellar objects seems to drive him to want to learn everything he can about a singular thing. He also seems rather eager to learn new skills, is always on the lookout for more knowledge to attain, and I wonder if that has to do with his life-long yearning to venture out into space. While he has admitted to me during our tea-time conversation that he must have fancied himself a voyager or an adventurer when younger and used to enact such fantasies in his play as a child, now I believe that he has harboured that desire ever since. Now, he finally has the opportunity to live out that fantasy by playing the role of a navigator. His decision to buy that awful spacesuit supports that idea even though ultimately it did not have the pay-off he was expecting – it must have been a harsh remainder of reality when I poked fun at his choice of attire rather than praising his fore-thought for 'bringing such a spectacular piece of equipment' or some notion alike that.

Ha! He reminds me of many of my colleagues and past classmates at the Academy – the aristocratic sons of great spacers who decided themselves to have what it takes to achieve such greatness as well, only to find out that they were certainly not made of the same wit and intelligence it takes to make one's way in the Navy. Unfortunately, many of them found an easier way to claim their commissions – through underhanded deals, by rubbing elbows with the higher-ups and the passing of great amounts of money from one pocket to another. As someone who worked hard for their rank, it always angered me to see someone so imprudent to claim to be the same level of talent as I and share my level of command. It was more than just my pride that made angry, however – in the Navy, lives are at risk and it breaks my heart to imagine how many souls have been lost due to the incompetence of some conceited upstart who only wanted to wave around a cutlass and call themselves a spacer.

But I do not believe Doctor Doppler to be cut from the same cloth as those buffoons (although his behaviour sometimes does make me wonder). At least he can prove he can do the complicated mathematics that comes with navigation. That already puts him leaps and bounds ahead of some of my former acquaintances - I remember William Paine, a classmate of mine from the Royal Naval School I attended during my teenage years. He was the son of Admiral Hercule Paine and never failed to boast about his heritage during my education there - but he also never passed a single class of trigonometry and never received acceptance to any of the naval colleges and academies as a result. At least with Doctor Doppler, he has the potential to be a competent navigator, even though I do not believe he has the stomach and legs to make a proper naval officer.

Ha! If he can prove himself to be a competent navigator and if he ever decides on a change of vocation, it may end up one day that I could be hiring him! Now, that is an amusing thought. I wonder how he would react to that, especially after the way he assumed himself above my station during the beginning of this voyage and especially after the way he spoke accusingly at me not the very next day!

* * *

After so many pleasing encounters with Doctor Doppler (and by pleasing I mean that we did not finish our conversation going for the other's throat), I had optimistically supposed that we were past our childish squabbles and swiftly establishing an acquaintanceship built on mutual respect.

Well, that illusion was dashed the next afternoon.

The morning had dawned with a chilly wind blowing us towards our destination. The Magellan Current had revived herself with a fury and was making up for lost time with the strength of her tide as she drew us closer and closer to the Cloud. The dark storm clouds had dissolved themselves into a thick fog that clung to the bow the _Legacy_ as she ploughed on through. Between the wisps and brume were clear patches of bright blue sky as the light of Calliope was burning away any remnants rather quickly. I stepped out onto the deck that morning and raised my face to soak in the sunlight streaking through the dappled sky. It was our eleventh day of sailing, the twelfth of the month, and the sight of a pure patch of sky was a most welcome sight indeed after being without her for nearly a week. With my face warmed from the light's caress, I took in a lungful of cold air and held it, before expelling my breath slowly.

I was dreadfully tired.

You see, my watch had ended at four-hundred hours when I was relieved by a gaggle of the crew – there was the infamous Mr Greedy and Mr Pigors (who were still in my bad books for their earlier carelessness with their watch duties) along with Mr Aquanoggin, Mr Schwarzkopf, and Mr Meltdown. None of them had more than a handful of brain cells between them but I had no choice but to leave my ship in their hands and retire to my stateroom.

While Doctor Doppler descended to his own cabin for a few hours of restful slumber, I spent the early morning completing the mathematics and trigonometry that has been ingrained into my brain from years of repetition and practice. I knew that I had an overabundance of ship-keeping to do that day and not enough hours to see them all completed so I resorted to working through the early hours to get the navigation business done and dusted before breakfast. I was frequently back and forth to the bridge with my sextant (and often keeping an eye that the watchmen where properly completing their duties with their utmost attention) remeasuring angles until I was satisfied with the course of the ship. By the time I was penciling in the co-ordinates into this very logbook, the day's dawn was creeping through my stateroom's windows.

I rubbed my eyes and closed the logbook, looking out at the lightening view ruefully. By this point I had only two hours of sleep and had been awake since my watch began at midnight. Stifling a yawn, I checked with the bridge one last time before snatching another hour of sleep in the chair of my desk, curled up with my head resting on my arms.

I awoke when Mr Hawkins brought me my morning coffee and breakfast. When he placed my coffee in front of me, I snatched it up, drained half of it in one long gulp and then requested another. Mr Hawkins refrained from making a comment and instead slipped out of the room only to return moments later with a pot full of the stuff and a small side jug of bitter long-life milk (much credit to the initiative of either Hawkins or Mr Silver). Breakfast was the first hot meal I had in days now the weather was steady enough for Mr Silver to confidently relight the galley's fires. I was served a hot meal of scrambled eggs, tomatoes, and rich greens rather than my usual oatmeal (which had been miserably watery and cold at its center). With my stomach filled and energy restored through caffeine, I rushed through my usual morning routine and rounds, wishing the day would fly by so I could eventually crawl under my blankets and get some god-damn sleep!

* * *

The first duty of the day to complete was to replace the broken yardarm on the mainmast.

Mr Arrow went below with some of the burliest of the ropers to haul up the spare spar we had secured in the hold. Rather than carry the long stretch of hardwood through the maze of corridors that makes the Legacy's inner bowels, they loaded one of the longboats with their cargo and dropped the longboat from its bay. Meanwhile, I was splitting my time with the riggers and the other half of the ropers, preparing a system of pulleys, ropes, and block and tackle ready to lower the broken yard and lift its replacement up into place. The burnt yard had to be undressed of her ropes and the metal bracket attached to the mast was opened up to release her. I sent down half of the riggers to join the hoisting team, along with the order that some of the specialists join in the effort. Even Arrow stripped himself of his red coat and loaned his muscles to the cause. He shouted orders with professional timing and eventually, the old yard was slowly hauled up, guided out of the bracket by myself and one or two riggers armed with poles, and lowered back down to lay across the middeck.

"Good work, men!" Congratulated Arrow as the crew dropped their ropes and began to wipe the sweat from their foreheads. As I descended down the shrouds to inspect the spar properly, I caught sight of Mr Aquanoggin using the inside of his jacket to mop his underarms and my nose wrinkled in disgust.

I refused to jetsam the broken yard and instead requested Mr Silver (the only member of the crew left spare from the work) to start hacking it into even pieces of wood. Apart from the singed end, the rest of the yard was perfectly good wood and salvageable for other endeavours. The cyborg took his work up on the forecastle without complaint, well out of the way of the ropers, and it became Mr Hawkins' responsibility to sweep any splinters and sawdust up from under his legs.

Meanwhile I returned to my position aloft, residing on the platform, inspecting the strong copper bracket that cradled the awaiting yard, before I shouted down the order for the ropers to start hauling the new yard up. Arrow, from his position far below, saluted up and began bellowing orders to the ropers to pick up their charges and begin hoisting on his order.

"Ready the lines!" He ordered with a mighty yell. "Keep her straight, men. Smartly now, on my mark, one, two, three! Heave!"

There was a cacophony of grunts and groans as the ropes snapped taut and the spar of wood lifted from the deck by a few feet.

"Hold her!" Arrow called as the group rechecked their grips and footing. "And again, heave! Heave!"

The combined strength of Arrow, ropers, and riggers was enough to elevate the spar up swiftly and parallel. I called down for the team to avast lifting once the spar was in position and reached out with my pole to begin guiding her into the bracket. There was a fearsome moment when one side of the spar tilted downwards but a quick shout from Arrow corrected the ropers to tighten their grips. She lifted up again and hovered neatly over the copper bracket.

"Drop her down! Steady!"

The new yard dropped neatly into the awaiting bracket and Mr Mackrini stepped forward with his hammer, ready to close the bracket and seal it shut. The new yard was secured with steel nails as long as my forearm and satisfied that she would not go slipping out of her hold, I descended back down onto the deck.

"Good work!" I praised the crew once my feet were back on solid decking. "Riggers, your duties are not completed yet! That new yardarm needs dressing, run up and prepare the ropes. Mr Schwarzkopf, please take over Mr Silver's work on that old spar. The rest of you are dismissed."

The crew dispersed, some ascending the shrouds to their work and others lingering about on deck to enjoy the weather. Mr Arrow was pulling his coat over his shoulders as he approached. "Most satisfactory work, ma'am. It's been a while since we last had to replace a spar in space."

"It's not over yet, Arrow," I replied, glancing upwards to the fixture of our efforts and attentions. "But the most difficult part is behind us. While you can rest easy, I will be aloft. I want that mainsail fully unfurled by the time we leave the current – even if it means work through my lunch!"

* * *

True to my word, I did just that.

The riggers grumbled when they realised they would have having late lunch but I corrected their behaviour with a few snappy comments of my own. I was in an ill mood, completely exhausted from climbing up and down the shrouds all morning and tying so many knots that it felt as though my hands were about to fall completely off my wrists!

After I inspected the ropework of the new yard, I oversaw the riggers reef and unfurl the mainsail a few times to properly wear in the ropes and once I was satisfied that all the ropes and mechanics were fully functional, I was turned to retreat to my cabin for a little rest and lunch. My advances were stopped, however, when I was reported to by Mr Schwarzkopf who claimed to have completed chopping up the old spar. That then required my attention and I ordered him to start taking them down the hold to be properly stored for the time being. I called over Mr Hands, who had been aimlessly wandering the deck in laps, to help Mr Schwarzkopf in his work. Just as I was about to turn on my heel for my cabin, Mr Turnbuckle hailed me from the helm to inform me we were closely approaching our desired co-ordinates. My eyes were heavy and scratchy by this point but I nodded along and called for the riggers to hurry up with their lunch, as we would soon be leaving the current and required their efforts to change tack.

Truly, there is no rest for the wicked, sometimes.

Through all this, Doctor Doppler remained below decks and I had not caught a glimpse of him all day. My duties around the ship had kept me so busy that he did not even cross my mind until Arrow appeared on the bridge after his midday rounds and pulled up to my side, chuckling to himself.

"Something funny, Arrow?" I asked lightly, swallowing the last slice of purp I had managed to sneak into my mouth from my abandoned lunch.

"Have you noticed if any of your old Academy textbooks are missing, Captain?" Arrow spoke slyly, peering curiously at me for my reaction.

I rolled my eyes. "Ah yes, Doctor Doppler took custody of my old navigational ones after our watch this early morning. He seemed a little bored and restless that he did not have a way of being of use on this ship, so I offered to teach him how to navigate. He will be plotting our course, alongside my own. Obviously I cannot leave it all up to him but it will keep him amused." I explained nonchalantly, not wanting to make a big song and dance about it all. I did not mind; I had no use of those old books really.

"So he fancies himself a navigator?"

"Well, he is an astrophysicist. If anyone is capable of doing the mathematics, it is him."

"I must say, Captain, it is very kind of you to offer to educate the Doctor on such a matter. After all, taking such time out of your precious schedule must come at a sacrifice."

I waved a hand dismissively. "Tish-tosh, Arrow, he will be mostly self-learning, if anything. I showed the Doctor how to use a sextant this morning and he picked that skill up rather quickly. With those old textbooks of mine, he will probably be able to teach himself how to do all the calculations in no time. Truly, the most I will be doing is checking his homework so to speak."

Arrow chuckled. "Maybe the Interstellar Academy will finally be able to entice you onto their staff, ma'am, if you are so inclined to teach to those less knowledge about spacing."

"Teaching one wayward scientist is hardly the same as teaching a class of thirty unruly teenagers," I grinned up at Arrow. "Now, hop to it, Arrow. Call up the crew, we have a current to leave."

"Aye, ma'am!"

Mr Arrow straightened up smartly and followed my orders directly. From there, leaving the current was far easier than joining. With the crew at their stations, all we had to do was slowly direct the_ Legacy_ further and further west, keeping her perpendicular to the current's length. The winds we had to battle when approaching were now a godsend that gave us one final push away from the Magellan Current, driving us closer to the Cloud like an encroaching tide. We eventually changed to beam reach on the starboard tack, changing our heading to true west at two-seven-zero-zero. It would not be until much later in the night when we would have to change our course of elevation but at that moment, we were smoothly heading towards our first port of call – a vast improvement in our progress.

The clouds that plagued us in the current were now far behind us and even as I climbed up to one of the flying bridges with my telescope, I could see where the storm enveloped the Magellan Current, forcing its way north like an ugly black-and-grey snake. I glared at the storm from my position, cursing it for delaying us so, when I turned my head and caught sight of the sorry state of the ship's hull. Arrow had informed me the morning before about the scourge of astrobarnacles that had sprouted and grown like weeds all over the ship's underbelly in thanks to the prolonged moisture provided by the rain. The hull looked closer to a black colour than it did it's eye-catching white. Once again, I cursed and upon planting my own feet back on the bridge, called down for a swing-seat to be rigged up to the mainmast and to summon the cook and cabin boy.

When Mr Silver emerged from the galley, he placed his metallic hand over his heart and bowed lowly. I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes and ignored his behaviour. "Mr Silver, prepare Mr Hawkins for his duties. The hull is infested with astrobarnacles and need relieving of such. I want the hull spotless before we reach a waystation - and you are to go with him to ensure he does the job properly."

"Aye, Cap'n." He saluted before turning to holler down the stairs and into the galley. "Jimbo! Git a bucket an' a scraper! Yer be going off the side of the ship!"

The swing-seat was brought up from storage by one of the ropers – nothing more than sturdy plank of wood tied at both ends and secured at one of the masts through some dependable knots. It was more than strong enough to support both the weight of Mr Hawkins, who had skulked up from the galley carrying a bucket and a utensil for his work, and his supervisor. They both cocked a leg over the wood (Mr Silver had to straddle it like a horse, while Mr Hawkins was nimble enough to kneel) and were gently lowered over the gunwale. Mr Hands was told to stand watch by the ropes so to hoist them back onboard when the time was right and with that done, I went about my usual business, thinking no more of the cabin boy and his chores.

That is, until much later when I heard a startle cry from the middeck.

* * *

The role of a cabin boy upon any ship in this basic to understand.

A cabin boy serves under the cook, helping them in their duties, and does most of the cleaning around the ship. This includes swabbing the upper and lower decks, keeping the water jugs and containers filled, helping prepare meals, organizing the pantry with the cook's guidance and keeping the galley hygienic. Mr Hawkins is also tasked with cleaning the heads regularly and, at intervals, scrubbing the hull and keel of the ship of astrobarnacles.

It's a simple task, although not a favoured one, but these things must be done and usually the most unsavoury of chores are passed down to the cabin boy. It happens on every ship up and down the Empire. If you were to walk along the piers at Crescentia, you would often see the sight of a young person, usually no younger than ten, sitting on a swing-seat metres above the dock, scrubbing away and kicking their legs over the edge (if they have any, that is). Even at the Academy, ridding the ships of their astrobarnacles was considered an unfortunate punishment and I had many a time had been subjected to it. Sometimes we were not even graced with a swing-seat and had to use rope ladders to keep our balance on instead. But no one – not even the cabin boys themselves – view this as a particularly dangerous task so long as the Captain of the ship has the good sense to order the chore completed in smooth, plain sailing.

So, tell me, why is it so difficult for Doctor Doppler to comprehend this?

* * *

I was in my stateroom, resting my eyes for a brief few minutes, when my ears picked up a commotion on deck. There was some yelling, a disturbed cry of distress, so I instantly leapt from my chair and darted out from the room.

"What is the meaning of all this noise?" I questioned sternly, my eyes shooting to every corner to see what was wrong, forcing them to stay open in spite of my fatigue.

The noise had come from Doctor Doppler, who was must have emerged from his cabin to take sights for his navigation. He was stood at the middeck gunwale, glancing at me over his shoulder with a look of panic. Instantly, my gut clenched – had there been an accident with Mr Silver and Mr Hawkins? It only took me a glance to see that the ropes for the swing-seat were still tied good and the lines taut but the look on the Doctor's face had frightened me so. He was as white as a sheet of fresh sail and his mouth wide open. He stood there, stumbling over his own tongue until he began to whine.

"I-It's Jim! He's overboard! He-he-he-he's dangling there-"

I shot to the starboard side of the ship and followed the lines of the swing-seat down. I expected to see Mr Hawkins dangling from the swing-seat but both he and Mr Silver were unharmed and carrying on with their work as usual, apart from the curious glance Mr Silver was throwing up to us. I saw no reason to be alarmed and frowned in my confusion, transferring my look to Doctor Doppler. He met my eyes from halfway along the ship, a gleam of fear still shining there. Instead, I looked to Mr Hands but he seemed more annoyed at the Doctor's outburst than concerned about anything. The Doctor's look of shock deepened to anger when I looked back at him, still oblivious to what had caused him such distress.

"Some-ting the matter, Cap'n?" Called up Mr Silver from his perch, one large hand smacked upon is head to stop his tricorn hat from falling off as he strained his neck upwards. Mr Hawkins had stopped prying an astrobarnacles away from the helm and too began to look up.

I opened my mouth to say that nothing was the matter, and to carry on, but was instead cut off by a firm, deep yell from Doctor Doppler as he once again half threw himself over the gunwale, eyes boggling out of his head.

"Jim!" He yelled. "Get back up here at once!"

Mr Silver and Mr Hawkins both looked up, astounded, frowns forming on their own countenances.

"Belay that!" I shouted down also, beginning to make my way over to the Doctor at a casual unhurried pace. All three of their heads snapped to me. "Carry on, Mr Silver! Mr Hawkins is doing a bang-up job so far!"

"No, Jim! Get up here this _instant!_" The Doctor continued shouting. His hands had jumped from the gunwale to clutch his own head in anguish. "It's too dangerous! Please, bring him back aboard!"

My spine had stiffened with a surge of annoyance. Doctor Doppler had just contradicted my order but I tried to control my voice and tone, willing to forgive his move this once as he was so clearly worried about his ward. He was just lucky that the hands had the sense to remember who was in charge; Mr Hands made no motion to fulfill his wish and Mr Silver had ordered Mr Hawkins to get back to his work. The boy did so hesitantly, his eyes shifting back and forth between the Doctor and I as though he was watching a game of battledore and shuttlecock.

"Doctor," I began. "There is no need to be so upset. Mr Hawkins is perfectly fine and capable-"

"Don't be ridiculous, one wrong move and he will be lost for good! How can you keep him down there? For goodness sake, bring him up!"

My face flushed at being called 'ridiculous', yet alone while in front of a hand. "Watch your words, Doctor," My voice had dropped several octaves as a clear warning sign that he was threading my patience. "and quit your fretting. Mr Hawkins has duties as our cabin boy to fulfill and that includes-"

That was when the Doctor made his fatal mistake. With a huff of annoyance, he moved to grab the ropes used to attach the swing-seat to the mast, as though he wanted to attempt to pull the duo up himself (he never could have, Mr Silver alone is easily three times his weight), but to meddle with the ropes unless one knows what one is doing is a dangerous thing to do.

My rage spiked as the Doctor reached for the ropes and before his fingertips even brushed them, I roared in such a guttural way that it made my head and ears pound. "_Lay a hand on those ropes and you will have no hands_!"

It felt as though the whole ship had held its breath as a result. All talking from the skylarks had ceased and all eyes were on the Doctor and I. Even the _Legacy_'s timbers ceased her usual creaking.

The Doctor blanched. His hand retreated to his pocket quickly and he glared at me with every ounce of intimidation he could muster. I swooped in closer to stand face to face with him and the Doctor did something I did not expect him to do. Instead of cowering in fear like many victims of my anger tend to do, he stood his ground and pulled himself up straight, refusing to break the eye contact between us. He was still shaking nonetheless, but whether it was out of terror or his own anger I am not certain. If I was not so livid I might have respected him for refusing to yield but his persistence only poured fuel onto the raging fire that was my temper.

"How _dare_ you try to meddle with those ropes. They are only things keeping Mr Silver and Mr Hawkins anchored to this ship-"

"Captain, you need to-"

"I am _speaking_!" I cut off, shouting over his words. My rage was only mounting. "If you tamper with those ropes, you could put both of Mr Silver and Mr Hawkins in danger-

"They're _already_ in danger! You have them hanging over open space with nothing to keep them safe!"

From there, the Doctor and I had begun a battle of words in which neither of us would listen to the other. The Doctor kept throwing frightened looks down over the gunwale at Mr Hawkins, who sat opened mouth at hearing the argument from metres below us. The rest of the crew was watching in silence, even those who had emerged from their repose in their quarters, gathering to see what all the shouting was about. The only person absent for the affair was Arrow, my ally, who at that moment was writing up his reports down in the wardroom and was far out of hearing.

Meanwhile, I was on the verge of throwing personal insults to subdue the scientist when I ordered him to retreat to my stateroom in an attempt to get away from the crew's prying eyes.

"No." He refused.

My ears struck up straight and I sucked in a sharp breath. "_What_?"

"Not until Jim is back on this ship, I will not-"

"Are you disobeying my order?"

"I will not leave until Jim is safely b-"

"For crying out loud then! Mr Hands, hoist up Mr Silver and Mr Hawkins. Bring them back on board but leave the swing where it is." I ordered bitingly.

Mr Hands moved sharply at the tone of voice but Doctor Doppler still refused to move. While we stood waiting for Mr Hawkins to step foot once more on the solid decking, I noticed the crew all staring. I hissed icily. "What in blue blazes are you all staring at? Have you all nothing better than to do with your time or shall I remedy that for you?"

The crew scattered like frightened birds. Even the skylarks moved upwards to retreat from my wrath. Only Mr Hands, using his four arms and immense strength to haul the cook and his cabin boy up to the gunwale within a few heaves, and those on watch remained. Doctor Doppler refused to take his eyes off his ward for the whole three minutes it took for Mr Hawkins' head to reach in level with the deck.

I stood by in a stewing rage.

All of the tension melted from the Doctor's frame once Mr Hawkins stood up and the financier wobbled forward to help the boy over the side. "Jim, thank goodness, are you alright? Not too shaken, I hope-" The Doctor said breathlessly, his eyes running up and down the boy to ensure that all of him was indeed there.

Mr Hawkins rejected his open hand and instead dropped over the gunwale gracefully, his face burning with shame. "I'm fine, Doc, really," he snapped. The boy's chin dipped as he began to withdraw into his shell. "Seriously I wasn't in any danger-"

"Don't be absurd, Jim, what would your mother say if she saw you hovering so precariously out in open space like that!" The Doctor dismissed his ward's protests. The mention of the Mr Hawkins' mother only embarrassed the boy further. He grimaced and turned away, refusing to even look at Doctor Doppler anymore.

"The lad was never in any danger, Doc, he was perfectly safe wit me," Mr Silver began, rushing to ease the Doctor's troubles as he swung himself over the gunwale, his strange pet mimicking the end of his sentence as though to punctuate it. Meanwhile I, watching this scene from a mere three feet away, was done biting my tongue.

"Doctor." I interrupted the Doctor's fussing with an acidic growl. He shot me a cross look and I glared back, clenching my hands tightly behind me. "My stateroom. _Now_."

* * *

My stateroom door slammed shut, shaking the glass in my wall-mounted star chart. The deadbolt had hardly been in its strike for half second when I rounded on Doctor Doppler, unleashing all the fury that had been pent up since his insubordination.

"What in the name of _Hell_ is the matter with you?" I spat.

The Doctor turned, bewildered at my inquiry and furious simultaneously. "I-I could ask you the same question!" He retorted with an equal amount of vehement, his face growing redder and redder. "What were _you_ thinking sending-"

"Watch your tongue, Doctor!"

"-a teenage boy over the side of the ship and leaving him hang there above open space! One slip and he could have fallen and been no more!"

I could understand the Doctor's worry - to an extent. If I was in a calmer mood and less exhausted as I had been in all day, I most likely would have eased his concerns with a patient explanation but I had already lost my cool and instead rolled my eyes and gave a hefty sigh.

"Do you have any idea how many cabin boys complete the same chore every single day in this galaxy? I promise you, Doctor, Mr Hawkins was never in any danger-"

"Ha! _Cabin boys_ maybe but Jim is as much as new to spacing as I am! How could you just throw him over the side of the ship and expect him to handle that as easily as someone who has spent most of their lives doing such things?" The Doctor continued with a canine growl rumbling in his throat, his hands waving about in frustration. "Would you put me in such a position and expect me to handle it like a professional?"

"I wouldn't trust you to walk in a straight line across the middeck! But Mr Hawkins is more than capable-"

"_More than capable_?"

"He can solar surf, can he not?" I cried. "Or at least that is what his criminal record claims? If Mr Hawkins can manoeuvre a solar surfer through heavily industrialised work yards, I have no doubt he is able to balance himself on a large plank of wood that is _stationary_-"

"That means nothing!"

"You underestimate his abilities!"

"I do no such thing!" The Doctor denied. "Yes, Jim is talented - but that does not give you the right to endanger him just because you think-"

"Endanger him?" My eyes flashed at the accusation. "Doctor, _there was no risk of him falling whatsoever_! The winds are _calm_, the ship is_ steady_, if I thought for a moment that there was a hazard that could throw Mr Hawkins off balance then I never would have ordered him over the side!"

"I am surprised you thought at all!" He yelled as the frown on his face deepened with each sentence either of us spoke.

I hissed furiously at his suggestion. "How _dare_ you say such a thing to me!"

"You certainly did not think to ask my permission before throwing him-"

"End it with the exaggerations, Doctor!" I interjected. "You have already given your consent for Mr Hawkins to be our cabin boy and a part of his duties is to scrub the ship's hull clean of-"

"Well, I wouldn't have if I knew you intended to put his life at risk like that-"

"Mr Hawkins' life was _not_ at risk, Doctor, how many times must I repeat myself to you?"

"He could have fallen!"

"He was perfectly capable of keeping himself on the swing!" I shouted as I slammed my fist down on the surface of my chest dresser beside me and jabbed a pointed finger at the Doctor with my other hand. "Mr Hawkins _will_ continue cleaning the ship's hull _and that is the end of that_, Doctor – and to put at ease _you_r consternation, I will have Mr Hawkins wear his lifeline but I am sure he will not appreciate you mollycoddling him so and especially in front of the crew. Satisfied?"

With his face as red as his coat, Doctor Doppler growled and shook his head. "Jim is a boy-"

"He is nearly a man!"

"He is a _minor_ and I am responsible for his safety on this journey, his mother entrusted him to me-"

"- and I am responsible for him as well! I am the Captain of this ship or have you forgotten, Doctor? I care as much for Mr Hawkins' safety as you do-"

My speech was stopped, however, by a scandalous cry that slipped from the Doctor's lips. I blinked in shock and stared. "Don't stand there and lie to me that you care as much about Jim as I do when you have nothing but contempt for everyone on board this ship but yourself!" The Doctor demanded. "You said yourself you did not care for this crew when I came aboard! You wouldn't care if Jim did fall!"

"How _dare_ you-"

"You don't have an ounce of concern for him at all! I-I am _appalled_ by how f-flippant you've been about this!"

"_Flippant_?" I cried, absolutely floored that I would be disrespected in such a way. "That is certainly rich coming from you! You have been nothing but dismissive of my authority since you stepped on board this ship!"

"I have never-"

"You attempted to override my order for Mr Hawkins to continue in his chores and were purposely difficult until you got your way! Like a petulant child! And you outwardly refused my order to come to my stateroom, not to mention in front of the entire crew! Your lack of respect disgusts me, Doctor!"

And then Doctor spat back words to me that I never expected nor wished to ever be directed at me by anybody. "And _you_ disgust _me_, Captain! For caring more about others following orders than the well-being of your crew!"

The Doctor's harsh words had stunned me to near silence. I faltered and gasped, stepping backwards to put more distance between us. I stood there with wide eyes as a memory washed over me - I was back in the Admiralty headquarters, standing before my superior officer, being threatened with a court-martialled over 'wasteful' use of ammunitions when all I had been doing was properly drilling my crew for combat in order to give them the best chance at survival. In my anger, I had pointed a finger at the Admiral's face and thrown the very same accusation at him. He remained indifferent and I announced my resignation then and there. I vowed to myself never to become like that.

And there I was, in the Admiral's very place, charged by another of caring more about protocol than results.

"How could you…" I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

My reaction must have been unexpected; the Doctor's hard glare softened slightly once I had pressed my back against my stateroom door. Maybe he was regretting his words as his shouting ceased and he pressed his lips together tightly.

But the hurt I felt only doubled my anger and I soon responded with twice as much fury as I had before.

"You – you _wicked_ man!" I rushed forward and the Doctor and I were nearly nose-to-nose. "How_ dare_ you make such a comment! Accusing me of _malpractice_, you cruel beast! I have never, _never_ been so insulted!"

Now it was the Doctor who felt desperate to step backwards and create some space between us. He swallowed. "Captain, I-"

"No!" I practically screeched, losing all sense of professionalism. "No more! I am sick to death of you, Doctor Doppler! I will have you know that I value my crew's lives above all else and it is my_ duty_ as an officer to do everything within my power to ensure that no harm should fall upon them! And for you – _you_ – a snivelling louse of a landlubber – to infer that I am no better than those wretches in the Navy – those who care more about their image than of the souls of others – _that is by far the most degrading and personal insult I have ever been delivered_!"

"C-C-C-Captain-"

I ignored him and turned, ripping open the stateroom door, not caring for a second if any of the crew could hear me. "Get out! Get out of my sight! I want nothing more to do with you! I am done with trying to be amicable! Never presume to speak to me again!"

The Doctor stormed out, as infuriated with me as I was with him after the names I had called him. I slammed the door shut behind him, leaving me alone in my cabin, still trembling with rage.


	9. Woes and Doubts

**AN: Thank you again for all the kind reviews! The inspiration for this argument came when re-watching the film (again) and being horrified at seeing Jim nearly fall overboard when scraping the side of the ship during the 'I'm Still Here' segment. I remember thinking that if I was so horrified then imagine Doctor Doppler's response! So I've decided to expand on that here. This is a much shorter chapter, it was going to be apart of the next chapter again but I decided to cut it. Hope you all enjoy! **

Date: 013.071.1789

Location: Royal Light Ship _Legacy_, Waystation Victoria, the Magellanic Cloud

The events of the Doctor and I's latest argument have been dwelling in my mind ever since the Doctor's departure from my cabin that afternoon.

It is insane to think that only half a day before that aggressive argument, the Doctor and I were stood on the bridge underneath a shared umbrella talking cordially about navigation and him even coaxing a laugh from lips. In all honesty, remembering our pleasant watch together now only leaves a bitter taste of disappointment in my mouth. How could a pair go to such extremes in such a little time?

One hour we are discussing trivial things in polite conversation, the next we are at each other's throats.

In one way, it is hardly a new occurrence. Doctor Doppler and I have had a rather shaky start but I was beginning to believe that the petty fights and worthless comments were behind us. No more insulting each other's work, instead finding and building new respect to one and other, and forming a completely normal and professional relationship. I was enjoying it so – it pains me to admit but the dinner Arrow and I shared with the Doctor was one of the most pleasurable suppers I have shared with a financier in all my five years of independent work, and I enjoyed his company so much that I – I even sought it out with that blasted pot of ginger tea!

And the man has rewarded me for my kindness with an insult so cutting that it left me motionless in my cabin, collapsed in my chair with my head in my hands, my burning eyes closed and my ears ringing with the echoes of his voice. His fouls words were bouncing around my head insistently, as though the Doctor was still stood in the room repeating them. In my chest, I could feel my heart beating with fresh fury. I stayed there, for hours it seems, sinking further and further into a deep feeling of hurt and anger.

It was completely absurd for me to be so…so shaken after such a discussion. Admittedly, it is not the first time I have dealt with the complaints of a proud, ignorant passenger but it is the_ only_ time in my memory that I have allowed myself to be so affected by the words of such a man.

No one had ever cut me so deeply…

My mind was spinning and I was thoroughly drained of all of my energy. My fatigue had finally caught up with me, and the surge of rage-induced adrenaline had faded. I am ashamed to confess that while I sat slumped in that chair, my head cushioned by my hands, I slipped into a dreamless slumber. If it were not for Arrow paying me a visit later that evening, I would have stayed there until Mr Hawkins brought me my supper!

But Arrow had knocked and entered my stateroom some hours later. I, having fallen asleep, did not hear him. He admitted himself and found me with my face concealed, clearly out of sorts. Concerned, he awoke me by calling me repeatedly until jerked awake.

"Arrow," I croaked, opening my eyes to see stood him before my desk. I re-adjusted my position in an attempt to gather my senses. My neck was incredibly stiff and I raised a hand to rub it gently. "Is there an issue?"

My second-in-command gave me a look of concern. "No, ma'am, it is just that I have not seen you since we left the current…and Captain, whatever is the matter? It is not like you to fall asleep here and while on duty, and Doctor Doppler-."

"Oh! Don't even mention that man to me," I muttered. I was worn out and wishing nothing more than to slip into slumber once again. The painful memory of the argument had returned by the mention of our financier and with it, a throbbing in my chest.

"Did something happen, ma'am?"

I recounted the whole palaver to Arrow, who listened in dumbfound silence, while I massaged my temples in an attempt to ward off the headache splitting my skull. When I informed him of the final insult the Doctor directed at me, a glaring frown at settled on his face. Arrow, you see, knows everything about that event in the Admiral's office and knows just how deeply that moment has stayed with me all these years. He was so repulsed by the ordeal that he shortly handed in his own resignation to the marines not long after I did to the Navy. He has always been my support, for years even before my retirement, and is all the family I need in this life. He has always stood by my side and so it came as no surprise when he took my side in this argument.

"All that over a cabin boy scraping astrobarnacles off the hull?" He spat and shook his head. "What a load of nonsense over something so trifle!"

"Exactly," I sighed. Even though I knew well that I had done no wrong-doing, hearing Arrow validate the fact still came as a welcome relief. "And I am done with it, Arrow. I have done nothing but be civil with the man ever since those early teething troubles…and this is how I am repaid."

"You have done your best, ma'am… it is just shameful that Doctor Doppler could not bring himself to treat you with the respect that you deserve. " Arrow reassured me gently with a steady look.

I glanced away and sat in silence, slowly absorbing Arrow's words. I closed my eyes and dipped my head, grateful for his presence. "Thank you, Arrow." I said softly.

"My pleasure, ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, Arrow, thank you. I will be perfectly fine. It is not the first time I have butted heads with a passenger." I replied in an attempt to shake off the wound but I could see that Arrow was unconvinced. Truly, I had not expected to be so deeply affected by the Doctor's words – but then, I had hardly expected him to say such a thing to me after all, especially how agreeable he had been recently…

"Aye, ma'am." Arrow said eventually and made to turn to the door. "If you will excuse me, I will be off to the wardroom for supper. I must have a little chat with our financier…"

"Oh, don't go picking fights for my sake, Arrow," I said sharply. I willed myself to sit up straight and right myself. My senses were slowly returning and I was attempting to shake myself awake and carry on as usual. "And you do not get paid for being a mediator."

It was then I took a quick glance at the clock and to my horror, discovered it was nearly nineteen-hundred-hours! I had been sitting around, asleep for around three hours, doing nothing! Three hours of ship-keeping lost! I had the good grace to blush at my idleness and moved to my mirror, eager to straighten up my appearance before Mr Hawkins appeared with my supper. My eyes were red raw and my hair displaced from its uniform shape so I first began to battle with my hair to regulate it once again.

Arrow, meanwhile, had one large hand on my stateroom door's lock, prepared to leave. "If I may ma'am, I had informed the Doctor that I would not tolerate any 'cross words' about you before we even cast off from Crescentia. I intend to make good on that promise."

"Fine," I relented. Arrow's voice was very stern as he spoke and I knew that there was no room for a debate. "But for Heaven's sake, don't let him feel that we are joining forces against him or anything alike! The last thing I want after being accused of malpractice is to also be accused of bullying."

"Aye, Captain-" Arrow hesitated. "And…Amelia?"

I spun around, one hand frozen on my shoulder from brushing dust off an epaulette. I looked at Arrow with a raised eyebrow. He very rarely calls me by my forename - even as a child I was always 'Miss Amelia'. To use my forename at a moment like this only meant that he had something deeply personal to say, something for my ears only.

Arrow met my eyes unflinchingly. It felt as though he was staring right down into my soul and no amount of false words or dusting of epaulettes would convince him otherwise that I was not so terribly shaken by the Doctor's insult. Actually, I believe even Arrow could see past that – to the other old wounds that still scar my soul - and the words he spoke to me partially confirmed that.

"You have always put your crew first and nothing Doctor Doppler or anyone else can say will change that," He said with shining eyes. He pursed his lips and nodded with conviction. "Your family would be proud of you."

* * *

Would they?

A resigned reserve Captain on half-pay, commanding a mere heavy-scout classed galleon and doomed to spend the rest of her days shipping cargo and ferrying around insolent scholars?

It's not much of a legacy for the daughter of a renowned naval Captain, and the granddaughter of a celebrated Admiral and Commodore. It is certainly a far fall from grace compared to my previous accomplishments.

When my father shuffled off this mortal coil, I was a newly promoted Lieutenant, already decorated with the Green Badge of Honour, the top graduate of her class from the Royal Interstellar Academy, one of the youngest Midshipmen to be recommended for the Lieutenant's Exam and one of the even fewer to pass first time. When he died, I knew in my heart of hearts that he died a proud man, a man happy and content with the legacy that he left behind.

But if he were alive today, would he truly think so? Would his opinion of me still be held the same? Or would he turn in his grave to see me now, being labelled as flippant and uncaring, accused of malpractice while I publicly accuse the Admiralty of the same faults? Would he label me a hypocrite? Maybe not, but would he still hold the same pride in me if he could see my position now? No longer a part of the Royal Navy, in command of a mere galleon...

But Arrow seems to think his opinion would be unchanged and no one knew my father – or my grandfather for that matter – as well as Arrow did. I should take his word for it, because would never lie to me, but…something inside is telling me otherwise…

* * *

The time between Arrow's departure and Mr Hawkins' arrival with my supper was a time spent dwelling on my doubts with misery. Thoughts of my father, of Doctor Doppler, of Arrow danced around my mind, like figures in a ballroom, drifting in and out of each dance. More doubts were beginning to creep in with each minute I spent contemplating – had I not really considered Mr Hawkins' position when I sent him overboard without a lifeline? I had assumed the boy could handle the chore without difficulty but I must admit, I did not ask nor give any consideration if he harboured any fears about going over the side at all. What if…Doctor Doppler had said some truth?

A knock at the door interrupted any further pondering.

Mr Hawkins had appeared right on time with my supper and began to set the spread before me on my desk. Mr Silver had practically made a banquet to use up as much of the fresh stuff left before it spoilt – my dinner consisted of an ample slice of herb pie, filled with all kinds of greens, herbs, chunks of stewed purps, oats and onions. There was also a side of peas, and beets fried in a breadcrumb and milk batter. It was a worthy spread but yet despite barely eating all day, I had no desire to feast on the dinner before me – so when Mr Hawkins placed a bowl of boiled pudding made to serve as a dessert, I pushed the bowl back to him.

"You can take the pudding, Mr Hawkins," I grumbled with a grimace. "I am afraid I do not have much of an appetite this evening."

"Sure thing, ma'am." He mumbled and took away the pudding without question. When he had finished placing the cutlery and filling my water glass, I expected him to leave as he usually does. Instead, he started to hover before my desk.

"Something wrong, Mr Hawkins?" I asked as I began to poke my fried beets with disinterest.

"Yeah, I…uh…just wanted to say thanks – ma'am."

I looked up from my meal incredulously. He wanted to give his _thanks_? "Whatever for?"

"For…sticking up for me earlier." He said frankly, sucking in a deep breath. It was obvious that the boy was uncomfortable; his usual sloppy posture had suddenly become more rigid and hands had slipped into the pockets of his trousers. I leaned back in my chair and watched him with interest as he stumbled through his rather unnecessary thank-you. "You're right; I'm not a kid anymore and…not many people remember that…especially not Doc and my mom. I can handle myself. So, thanks for…you know, not treating me like a little kid. Especially after what Doc did…he shouldn't have said those things about you, saying you didn't care and all."

I raised an eyebrow sharply at his final statement, and he quickly blushed when he realised the implication.

"I-I-I weren't eavesdropping or anything, it's just-"

"Doctor Doppler and I were hardly restraining our voices, Mr Hawkins, don't worry yourself for overhearing our…discussion." I interrupted with a dismissive wave of my hand, although I am now sure the content of our conversation was now the subject of any and all scuttlebutt roaming around the ship. "And as for Doctor Doppler, his doubt in your abilities was misplaced but his own care for you…was not. I…am afraid that maybe I had made a mistake for not taking into consideration your position and sending you over the side without a lifeline."

Mr Hawkins shook his head. "No, ma'am, you were right…if I can stay upright on a solar surfer with nothing but a strap to keep me on the board, I can sure as heck stay on a stupid swing." He said this with a little grunt of a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

I too began to finger my fork with a little unease at the bluntness of such a conversation – it was slowly dipping into an informal format - and at admitting that I may have been a tad thoughtless. "I am glad to hear that, but you will still have to wear a lifeline the next time you are scrubbing the hull and keel – otherwise I fear Doctor Doppler may burst a blood vessel. Did you complete your work down there after?"

"Yes ma'am. Silver sent me down once Doc went below and I finished it all just before dinner."

"Good," I nodded. "I will inspect your work during my rounds but for now, you may go. And there is no need to thank me for what I said earlier to Doctor Doppler about you. I speak my mind, Mr Hawkins. I will speak what I believe to be the truth and in that moment, I believed it to be true that you were more than capable. If anything, I thank _you_ for confirming my beliefs. It is just shame Doctor Doppler could not share them."

To my surprise, this brought forth a small and shy smile from the cabin boy. He finally raised his eyes to meet mine when he did this and for a brief second, it was like looking at a completely different person to the morose and somber figure that plagued the deck of the ship. Mr Hawkins finally began to leave, gathering the trays to return with him to the galley, before he stopped just short of the door and looked over his shoulder once more.

"And ma'am…I'll talk to Doc later. I know you said he cares but…it still doesn't give him the right to talk to you like that."

Well, I was truly honoured that day – and Doctor Doppler will no doubt have gone to bed cursing my name if everyone from the first mate to the cabin boy was berating him for his words to me. I struggled to suppress a satisfied smirk at this thought and waved the boy away. "Do what you will, Mr Hawkins." I said. "You are dismissed."

"Yes…Captain."

If my memory serves me correctly, that was the first time Mr Hawkins had addressed me as 'Captain' rather than simply 'ma'am'. It was as though I had won his respect and the right to my command, in his mind at the very least. Incredible – I could never have imagined that something as simple as believing that the boy was capable of standing on a plank of wood would be enough to gain the proper respect from him. Had I really done something that outstanding that he felt moved to address me by my rightful rank?

But strangely enough, Mr Hawkins had been the one to say the very words I needed to hear. Do not be mistaken, Arrow's comforts were thoughtful and much appreciated but Mr Hawkins' has only confirmed my original thoughts and proved to me that I was_ not_ in the wrong at all: Doctor Doppler overstepped a boundary and even though I can understand some worry for his charge, his behaviour towards me was unfounded on any forgivable excuse. I am not the one who needs to apologise and as such, I can do nothing to mend the wounds on this occasion – it is Doctor Doppler who must seek to rebuild this bridge he as burned and nothing can be done on my end until he has sought me out to apologise and grovel for my forgiveness.

* * *

Thoughts of Doctor Doppler mournfully plagued me for the rest of the evening. In vain, I struggled to put them aside but his words kept lingering still in the back of mind.

I rejected most of my dinner after eating a few portions while miserably alone. Instead of allowing myself to sit in my stateroom, I opted to complete my rounds early. Mr Hawkins had done a marvelous job of cleaning the hull; the _Legacy_ is once again spotlessly white. I also checked the new main-yard once more and found that she had been agreeably broken in and I could hardly tell the difference between the new yard and the old one. Satisfied that the ship was in a suitable enough shape to be seen in a dock, I spent the remainder of my evening standing at the ship's bow, breathing in the cold night air, until it was time for Mr Arrow to report to me with the results of his own inspection.

He approached me at the bow, and tipped his hat respectfully. "Captain, ma'am. All is well. No issues to be reported. I believe we are all clear to properly dock at our waystation."

I nodded once Arrow's report was concluded. "That concurs with my own, Mr Arrow. I shall raise the ship's course by an elevation degree during my watch later. You are relieved for the night."

"Aye, ma'am, thank you."

"And Mr Arrow…did you by chance have that 'little chat' with the Doctor?" I asked curiously, finally turning from the stars to my old friend.

Arrow glanced over his shoulder to see if any of the watchmen were listening in. Thankfully, as the intermitted watch-on-watch cycle had ceased once we departed the storm, there were only a few hands on deck: Mr Schwarzkopf and Mr Meltdown were looming around the middeck, leaning against the gunwales. Mr Aquanoggin was lounging in the shrouds on the port side with a spyglass raised to his eye now and then.

"I did indeed, ma'am." Arrow continued, lowering the volume of his voice. "He did try to take his supper to his cabin but I bid him to stay."

From there, Arrow narrated a tale of what had happened during his and the Doctor's supper in the wardroom. Arrow claimed that he had steeled himself for a biting argument with the proud candid, and the Doctor did indeed stand firm in his fit over Mr Hawkins' duty. He addressed the event icily even during Arrow's explanation about the cabin boy's chores. Arrow reaffirmed that Mr Hawkins was never in any danger and added that by providing him with Mr Silver as supervision, I had already considered Mr Hawkins' position and taken a step that most Captains would never do for the sake of a cabin boy's comfort and safety – a point that had not crossed my mind! Once the conversation had turned to the Doctor's disregard for my orders and his insult towards me, the Doctor eventually admitted that he had overstepped a boundary or two during our heated disagreement.

"He was surprisingly submissive when I rebuked his comments towards you." Arrow said as he wrapped up his story. "I could hardly believe it was the same man who had boldly faced _you_ down."

"Yes, well, unfortunately, some men feel that they can talk to a woman however they want but would not dream of addressing their fellow _men _in such a way." I grumbled. I am well too acquainted with being treated as such. How many times have I berated an officer only for them to sneer in my face but roll over and show their bellies once another male had stepped in? Not even a Queen on the throne is enough to change some minds about their attitudes to women.

But Arrow seemed to disagree that this was a correct read of Doctor Doppler's character. "It is not that, ma'am." He said. "He seemed almost miserable over the fact another quarrel had broken out. Contrite, almost."

"…he did?" I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, ma'am. Although he did stand firm in his insistence that Mr Hawkins should not have to go over the side of the ship, he was quite pained when he realised how deep an insult he had dispensed onto you."

"How so?"

"He hardly touched his food and wasted most of the meal – and his features were all downturned and saddened. He practically winced every time I mentioned you by name."

I looked out to the stars again and sighed, pondering on this for a few seconds. A breath had bottled itself in my lungs and it took a harsh recall of the Doctor's words to force it back out. "Good," I said eventually in a low tone, wishing him to wallow in as much hurt as I had for the past few hours. "Let the reprehensible creature steep in his misery. You are dismissed, Mr Arrow. Goodnight, and thank you."

Arrow bid me goodnight and retreated down the deck. Meanwhile, I took the time to stare over my shoulder at the suns of Pelsinor, now slightly dimmer in the sky than they had been the previous night. The Doctor once again crept unbidden across my thoughts so I scowled, turned from the ship's bow and went to bed for a few brief hours of fitful sleep.

* * *

It was not long until I rose again to take the middle watch, during which the Doctor failed to approach me.

When he emerged from below decks, he kept his eyes trained on the deck's flooring and marched as far away from the bridge as possible. He spent the whole watch at the ship's bows, watching the stars, and not once twisted his head in my direction.

It was almost like I did not exist to him.

But I was on the other end of the spectrum - I glared at him for the near the full four hours, so much so that I could have burned a hole in his head. I stood and watched and waited for him to even look at me. If he was truly apologetic for his horrible words, he did not show it. I had half expected him to approach me and apologise but once the ship's bell tolled and the next watchmen emerged to take our positions, he headed straight back down to his cabin without so much as a glance towards me.

Twenty-four hours ago, we were stood side by side under an umbrella laughing about his spacesuit. Now, we couldn't bear to be within arm's reach of each other.

When I turned into bed, I was angry. I kept cursing his name, glaring up at the ceiling of my cabin, gripping the sheets of my bed in my fists to keep them from swinging out and striking something, _anything_ \- but while simultaneously agitated by the Doctor's behaviour, I came to a conclusion that caused my anger to turn inwards and to be directed towards myself.

I lay there, furiously frowning, hating myself because despite all the hurt that the Doctor's words had caused - I was still a fool enough to actually miss his company.

* * *

Thus concludes the events leading up to our arrival at Waystation Victoria.

It had been as tumultuous as our storm had been. Not only was our progress on the voyage impended, so had the Doctor and I's growing civil relationship. Shameful and disappointing are the only words that come to mind when I recall the events, but I still stand by that I did no wrong – both Arrow and Mr Hawkins will attest to that – and if Doctor Doppler truly has revoked his anger and disgust to me and replaced those feelings with ones of remorse as Arrow had suggested, he has yet to display them to me.

As of writing this I am still awaiting an apology and I refuse to utter a word to the man until he does. However, even if he decides eventually to apologise, I do not believe I can find it within me to forgive him. Any cordial relations are far gone – the insult he delivered was far too personal for me to simply forget. Doctor Doppler, for what little respect he has managed to claw from me, has been lost and once my opinion of a person is lost, it is lost forever.

But unfortunately, my duty to this ship insists I do otherwise. For this voyage to be successful, I will need the Doctor's contributions in the form of his hefty wallet.

You see, as the financier of this ship, Doctor Doppler is responsible for not only paying the crew's wages but to also provide the funds for our supplies. The Navy's generosity had only extended to the loan of a ship and two officers (myself and Arrow) to ensure she was properly commanded. Equipment such as ropes and sails were also included in this deal, and I can claim for them at the nearest naval victualing yard, but as for food provisions? They will have to be paid for by Doctor Doppler.

So when I inevitably have to go ashore to claim our provisions today, I will have to drag along our financier as well in order to gain access to his cheque-book. The majority of the day will be spent in his presence and I am sure to loathe every second of it.


End file.
